Ghost Fighters
by The Lord Of The Words
Summary: A crew of professional exorcists traveling about Icewind Dale come across Easthaven, and are swept up and along in an adventure to discover a nameless evil that plagues the Spine of the World Mountains. Continuing story of the first game, HoW, & Trials.
1. A Distinguished Crew

Ghost Fighters

**Chapter 1: **A Distinguished Crew

It is _cold_…And I mean, _very_ cold. When a man stands outside for only a short time, and has icicles hanging from his face, one knows that the breath of winter is great indeed. Ah, but there has been many a man who has called Icewind Dale, the upper arse-end of Faerun. A fitting yet none too appealing comparison.

Oh…hello, so sorry to ramble on. I didn't see you there, and I'm afraid that I've got a bit of a bad habit of talking to myself. But please, come in, sit by the fire, make yourself comfortable. Have a glass of wine; it will chase away that nasty chill in no time. We've been expecting you for some time now. Frankly, we were wondering if something had happened to you. But it would seem you've haven't landed in any undesirable situations involving kidnapping after all. Quite a relief. Ho, a nasty can of worms that can be…Ah, there I go again. Please forgive my meanderings.

Oh right, names…names, how rude of me to forget. My name is Dominic Hugos. A pleasure indeed. My background is a bit dull I'm afraid, when compared to others. I'm the one and only son of the noble-blooded Sterious family of Waterdeep. Unlike my parents who are stuffy and incorrigible, at a young age my personality curved towards seeing the world beyond our lavish home and irksome dinner parties. Oh sweet Helm, the boredom I've had to endure…

I took up the great art of fencing at a young age to appease my desire for combat, and I've gotten rather good at it. On the opposite end, my parents, in hopes I'd abandon my fanciful ideas of adventure for a promising career, insisted that I studied hard so that I may take my father's place within the city council. Though I had no desire to do such things, I did indeed apply myself diligently to my studies, so you'll not find a sharper wit or keener intellect anywhere else. Hah, I embellish a bit…Force of habit, what can I say?

But of course, that is just me, and though I have as much vanity as the next man, I'll not be so bold or arrogant as to say that I am the only man of my group. Hah, I wouldn't get very far if I was, I can tell you that.

Now then, if you'd look over that way, towards that rickety old barstool, you'll see my good personal friend Sol. A very nice chap, though he can be a bit arrogant for his own good. He's never revealed his last name to us, insisting that if we don't already know it, then he isn't going to tell. Peculiar yes? Though his garb is light, white with the outer lining of silver, you undoubtedly see that splash of color around his left sleeve. That red sash, which gives him his full self-appointed title…Sol the Red. Strangely enough, his title is due to the sash, and is a mere coincidence that he has rather unkempt red hair.

Though we have all been somewhat skeptical about it, _he_ claims that he is a very famous man in other parts of the world, being a feared and powerful spell-caster. I'm not so sure about the fame part, but he can certainly throw fireballs and lightning like nobody's business, and has certainly proven his destructive capabilities with no small amount of undoubtedly practiced fanfare many times. His magical prowess has indeed been invaluable.

What's that? The big fellow? Oh, don't mind him. That is Sir Victor. Sir Victor Tolis, if you'd like his _full_ name. He is a paladin, but of _what_ religion, I cannot say. As a matter of fact, I'm actually unsure as to what he even looks like under all that armor. He has never once removed his cuirass, or his helmet for that matter. How he sleeps in that armored heap is a mystery to me. In fact, he as a whole is a great enigma. Of all my companions, he hardly says a thing.

Barely a word, a sigh, or even a simple grunt passes from his invisible lips. He speaks with his actions, I suppose you could say. Striking down evil when and where he senses it with that enormous steel maul of his. And that is good enough for me. Naturally, because he only speaks on the rarest of occasions, we know very little about his past, or who he was before joining with us. It is quite possible that we may never learn the truth…

Now, over there sits our youngest, and dare I say…most rambunctious of our group. Miss Carrin Westfire. The silly elven girl of eighteen, with that curious white hair of hers…ah, a sweet girl if not a bit…uh…verbose. Which is rather strange for an elf…She has a seemingly limitless supply of jokes and taunts to try us with, day in and day out, and someone is always telling her to hush if only for a moment.

As if this talkativeness wasn't enough, but what with being a skilled "person who takes other people's things," we quite often find ourselves in unappealing situations due to her sticky fingers. But we _all_ have faults, as well as other traits that make up for them. Carrin is a master of traps, both arming and disarming, and our primary information gatherer. If there is a shadow, even the slightest hint of one, she will melt away into it, only to reappear with her daggers digging into a foes unguarded back.

O Ho, I see your eyes wander, my friend. Settling upon our golden-hared messenger of the gods eh? Allow me to introduce our priestess, Lady Cassandra Dolan. Although, I believe she could also be called a cleric by some. A great healer, and defender of good she is. Her powers of purification of all that is sinister is awe-inspiring, and her ability to calm tortured spirits is a sight to behold. When it comes to destroying undead, the rest of us handle that, but she…yes our dear Cassandra, she can do _so_ much more. In essence, she does more than the rest of us combined.

We exterminate their bodies but _she_ cleanses their souls, something that can prevent them from rising ever again. Nothing is as satisfying to us as to see the heartwarming smile on her face as she helps a hapless apparition on to divine rest. As caring as she is, she dislikes harming any living creature, regardless if it is hostile or not. At times, I wonder how her pure spirit can stand to mingle with the rest of us…

Anywho, let me direct your attention to the scruffy-looking fellow to your _immediate_ left, who is the last of my party. You will notice his black raven hair and far darker complexion, as he is not a local from these parts. His name certainly implies this as well, I'm afraid. It is _quite_ the mouthful. Xanlamin Uthadar Zanros the 5th. But thankfully, he goes most often by the nickname Bishop. Simple and easy to pronounce. I assume by noticing his toughened leather armor, and twin swords you have guessed at his profession. A fighter, true enough, but there is more to him than that.

Our friend here is what one may call a professional scalawag. More of a mercenary than the rest of us, though he's not wholly focused on getting paid. Oh, I know what you're thinking…With all those scars and tattoos, he must be a vicious ornery fellow. Well it might surprise you to know that while he is like that _some_ of the time, he isn't _always_ that way. Every once in a great moon he'll show a bit of human compassion, though he often complains about it afterwards. He tends to be more of the gruff man of the group. Not a part _I_ was born to play, I'll say that much. Hah ha!

So…that's us, quite a crew indeed, don't you think? Eh…what's that?

What do we do, you ask? Why my dear friend, I do apologize. I've been so busy introducing us all; I've forgotten to _introduce_ ourselves…If you follow. _Ahem_…My party and I go by the collective name of The Six Pale Hands, and unlike Sol and his mawkish boasting, we as a group are somewhat famous throughout lower Faerun as professional exorcists.

We've banded together for the single purpose of destroying and/or purifying the walking dead, apparitions, phantoms, or anything of its equivalency. Ghost fighters I suppose you might say. We all have our reasons of course, although most of which are rather unsavory, only bringing harsh memories better forgotten to the surface.

Of course, this by no means suggests that we are incapable of handling creatures of the living, monsters, beasts, and things of that nature. Oh goodness me no, we have to fight our fair share of them as we travel along. Undead is merely our specialty. And when a community or people are menaced by a threat other than ghostly beings, we'll gladly render our services to aid them.

As one may expect, our much-needed service has taken us many places across the realms, from the deep south, to the far east, and as you undoubtedly are aware, now to the far north. To the base of the Spine of the World Mountains, here in the fridge tundra of Icewind Dale.

Many tales of course are known about the mountains and the folks who dwell in them, but this tale isn't about the native mountain residences; barbarians, common folk, or anyone like that. You might want to make yourself comfortable my friend, and secure yourself another drink. This tale is a long one indeed…

- - -

- - -

**Note: The descriptions above may have been a bit hard to follow, so I've added this little blurp to make it easier…**

**Dominic Hugos:**** An average fellow, with sharp green eyes covered by thin spectacles, short tidy brown hair, nice clothes, a blue noble-jacket, wields a rather thick steel rapier**

**Sol the Red:**** Tall thin man, poofy red hair, small beard and moustache, white robes with silver trim, red sash around left arm, carries a quarterstaff / Invoker**

**Sir Victor Tolis:**** Towering suit of armor, red plume from helmet which blocks his face, breastplate has red and gold insignia of unknown origin; he carries an enormous steel maul (A 6 foot long hammer)**

**Carrin Westfire:**** Young elven girl, short messy crystalline white hair, violet eyes, rather pale, wears a darkened piece of Shadow armor, and uses two magic daggers**

**Lady Cassandra Dolan:**** Beautiful, statuesque, voluptuous, but with a pair of very soft endearing blue eyes, full blonde hair, light-fitting plate armor, wields a simple spiked mace**

**Xanlamin Uthadar Zanros the 5****th**** (a.k.a. Bishop):**** Darker skin, deep brown eyes, braided black hair, several scars and tattoos, hardened studded leather armor, uses two serrated scimitars**


	2. The Cold North

**Chapter 2:** The Cold North

I haven't the foggiest idea as to why the Ten Towns are considered towns really. Never quite understood it. They are more like villages, so small they hardly show up on the map. The largest of them consist of nothing more than a tavern, a simple store, an inn, perhaps a temple, and a few handfuls of homes. The populous is fairly thin, not being the same as bustling burgs as Baldur's Gate or Waterdeep, but if you are looking for quaint, then you have found your niche indeed.

For quaint certainly describes Easthaven, one of the Ten Towns, a humble fishing community, built right on the shores of Lac Dinneshere. It is here where we begin.

Our band had been traveling together for quite a long while at this point, going to wherever our whims or rumors carry us, and as it happens, our wanderings had led us north. Truth be told, we've all heard of the many tales of Icewind Dale, but none of us had ever gone. I myself had made a promise that I would visit the famous Spine of the World Mountains at least once. And my, was I was blown away at their immense splendor. Towering gradients of ice and snow, dwarfing us common people in their mighty shadows.

Of course, along with the dazzling mountain view comes the heaps of snow and the infamous harsh cold weather. Being used to a climate a bit less frozen, some of my group found it near intolerable.

Listening to the whinings of Sol and Bishop was the worst, both being from down south where it never even got chilly. Sir Victor would have to keep moving about lest his armor froze him stiff, but not surprisingly he never protested. The ladies too, seemed to adapt with no complaint or problem. I myself I'm ashamed to say, was closer to the complaining.

So when we happened upon Easthaven, one of the Ten Towns, we took full advantage of its tavern establishment, to drink up a hearty amount of warming liquor, to chase away the persistent chill.

Easthaven was a nice place, if not diminutive. Numerous huts belonging to dedicated fishermen lined the shores of Lac Dinneshere, their boats pulled up on the banks. As we entered the settlement, I took notice of anything noteworthy, spying a simple wooden temple, as well as a local store and inn. Other than that, it was a nice little hamlet, surviving in the frozen wastes.

The townsfolk didn't seem bothered by our appearance, leading me to believe that travelers were a common sight. One couldn't ask for a nicer community though, several helpful people pointing the way to the town tap house. That was unanimously our first stop, entering the modest establishment called The Winter's Cradle Tavern, sitting at a table, and ordering a generous amount of drinks for us all.

We had hardly settled into our mugs, when the door to the frozen outdoors opened again, letting in a blast of arctic air. Oh, one moment, I feel I must explain something before I proceed.

You see, in the days that we had entered this snowy realm, we've been traveling for quite some time, and hadn't heard of anything remotely close to undead plaguing the living. We didn't come by Easthaven to solely have a drink, though I will not deny that it did indeed play a role. Where people gather, so gathers rumors of the happenings, so it is for this reason that we came there. Just wanted to explain that.

So, as I was saying, we were in the midst of our personal revelries, when a rugged fellow clad in armor entered, drawing our eyes as surely as we drew his. He was older than we, his hair a dull blonde but with a good portion of gray mixed in. His eyes, though firm, had a telltale sheen or experience and wisdom. And he turned these towards us with a look of noticeable interest.

I suppose we _did_ stand out a bit in the dreary place. Me, in my saucy blue nobleman jacket with a saber at my side, Sir Victor encased in his mountain of steel, or the enrapturing beauty of Lady Cassandra.

His expression showed genuine surprise and intrigue at our little group, being a rather diverse crowd as we are. He wasted no time in approaching.

"What's this?" he questioned lightly, "new faces in town? Well met strangers." Because I was more or less the appointed spokesperson of our crew, not to mention that the nobleman in me all but required manners, I rose from my seat, offering this fellow a jovial handshake.

"Well met indeed. My name is Dominic. Dominic Hugos at your service." He took my hand, yielding a strong grip, and he offered a nod of his head, and a smile.

"A pleasure. The name's Hrothgar, formally of Hillsfar. Welcome to Easthaven."

"Hillsfar?" I inquired, "Never heard of it. Is it one of the Ten Towns?" This provoked a bit of laughter at that.

"Oh no, Hillsfar is a long way from here. I've had a rather extensive career in my life, and after traveling up, down, and under a good part of Faerun, I'm content to call this small village my home." He sent a gaze over my shoulder, looking at my diverse company.

"I am curious as to what business brings a group of travelers here at this time of the year, but I suppose that your business is your business. Though I would offer you a simple piece of advice. While you're in _my_ town, you'd do well to be on your best behavior. I serve as a protector of this township from all manner of threats, and any who would do the people living here harm in any way will answer to me. But I'm not here to make things seem unwelcoming…You seem a rather decent bunch, and I have no wish to label people as troublemakers."

Bishop grunted at that, downing a shot of cromyran brandy, one of his dark brown eyes swiveling up to meet the tall warrior's.

"Well that depends on what you mean by troublemakers…doesn't it?" Hrothgar gave our rugged mercenary type a raised eyebrow.

"Bishop," I hushed, "Must you _always_ try and raise people's suspicions about us?" I turned a sheepish look towards Hrothgar, patting my grizzled friend on the arm. "Sorry, I suppose he's a bit grumpy…Not use to the cold around here."

"No trouble. I always like to greet travelers, and help them feel comfortable. If you are looking for lodging, then I'm sure Quimby has a few free rooms over at the Snow Drift Inn. It's on the east side of town. And anything you may need to purchase, you should look over at Pomab's Emporium. His prices are a bit excessive, which is rather strange for a Calishite, but you'd be better off well equipped and short of coin, then the other way around in these mountains. But by looking at you, I'd wager that you've pretty able bodied."

"_Yes_," Bishop emphasized, pouring another shot, "_Very_ able bodies." My eyes rolled at that. "Yes, you might say that. We've seen several battles over the course of time, and we've had plenty of experience at staying one step ahead of dangerous situations."

"I thought as much, you all look to be rather capable, and with some fine equipment. I am wondering though, are you a mercenary company, or merely seeking adventure in these mountains?"

"Actually, we are traveling about, keeping our ears open. We're called The Six Pale Hands…You may have heard of us, we're fairly well known down south…Accomplished exorcists you might say. And we're always moving about searching for people in need."

"Indeed," Hrothgar seemed to think hard on my words, rubbing his jaw, "Interesting. Then perhaps we might have some business to discuss. But later, I don't wish to interrupt your merrymaking. You've all probably had quite the journey, and I know from experience that there is no better way to chase away the cold of the road with a stiff drink. And you'll find Grisella's selection ample, able to satisfy anyone's tastes. When you've rested up, come by my home so we may talk further. It's only three doors west of here. Farewell."

With a salute as a parting gesture, Hrothgar turned away, and strode to the door. We watched him depart.

"What was that was all about do you suppose?" Sol asked, leaning in closer to me, watching the large fellow leave, "Deliver a warning, and then off he goes?"

"Sizing us up, I'll bet," Bishop grumbled over his booze, "People round town decided to snitch on us, telling their local watchdog there were outsider about…"

"Yeah," Carrin put in, talking around her wine glass, "Probably here to check out your ugly face."

"You want to step outside little girl?" Bishop asked, leaning over, "'Cause I got no problem with throwing your skinny butt in the lake."

"Now now," I intervened, "No need for anyone to be taking a swim at this time of the day. I'll have a few more drinks, and then I say we should retire for the afternoon. I'm fairly bushed."

"He mentioned business," Cassandra reminded, "Perhaps there is something he needs from us. He looked interested when you spoke of our profession."

"Yes, intrigue to be certain. Or maybe he's got some information for us, requiring some assistance."

"Call me crazy," Carrin said, rolling her violet eyes my way, "But he doesn't look like a guy who needs help. Did you see him? He was huge! But at least he wasn't as big as our own personal mountain, huh?" With that, she grabbed one of Sir Victor's huge metal cover arms, giving it a squeeze. He made no sign of response.

"You'd be surprised I think," Sol lectured her; "There is much one, even a man as large as he cannot do alone. I saw in his face a similar expression, back when I was solo, from a man called Arthur Rengal. Of course, that was when I was more famous…"

"Oh no," the elven girl groaned, "Here he goes again!" She put her fingers into her delicate pointed ears, "Somebody wake me when he's done babbling!"

"How dare you! I'll have you know that I was merely making a comparison to their faces! It was serious and looked somewhat grave!"

"I think he's right…for once," Bishop hadn't looked all that interested from the moment Hrothgar approached or when he left, as was his nature, but now his eyes lit up. Perhaps he saw an opportunity to fight and get paid for it. "He speculated that we were a mercenary company, and he didn't look like he would ask us for assistance. But when you mentioned us being experienced fighters and _exorcists_, he _suddenly_ became interested. My sense of danger is acting up. He's got a job for us, mark my word."

"Are you sure it's your sense of danger tingling," Carrin inquired, leaning in with a smile, "Or is it your money sense that's tingling?"

"Alright that's it! We're going to tangle here and now shrimp!" He started to rise, but halted when I slid another shot of strong liquor in front of him. He gave me a grumpy look, one that I returned with a beaming smile, and with a grunt, he sat once more, and swallowed it down. I gave Carrin a wink, to which she silently giggled in response.

"Whatever it is Mr. Hrothgar may require," I spoke aloud, "We'll be certain to ask about it tomorrow. No sense in speculating too much, as he'll just tell us I'm sure."

"Is it just me," Bishop inquired with a lazy eye, "or are you just trying to stem further hostilities from within the ranks?"

"_Maybe_, but my point still stands. Now come, let's order one more round…"


	3. An Interesting Proposition

**Chapter 3:** An Interesting Proposition

Naturally, we stayed the night. After a long week and a half of solid hiking and sleeping in the snow, all of us were positively delighted to be sleeping indoors. As I could tell anyways. Most of my friends, and I don't just mean Sir Victor, have very passive expressions much of the time, so it is difficult for me to discern their moods.

After a good while in the tavern, we began to speak to the other patrons, making chitchat. We even helped the portly yet cheerful Grisella clear her basement of a beetle infestation. There weren't that many, but my word, where they sizeable. After that bit of excitement, we retired to the inn. I'm not certain what everyone else did in the night, but I merely laid my head down, and I was gone.

In the morning, I woke and saw that only I was present. My crew had already risen and left. The slothfulness of a nobleman…what can I say? Bishop was downstairs, still looking dour, stretched out on a bench, taking it easy.

"Morning," I greeted, "Where are the others?" He shrugged.

"Don't know."

"What time is it? Is it late?"

"Don't know."  
"Well, is there any breakfast around?"

"Do you enjoy bothering me by asking me questions that I don't know the answer to?"

"It depends I suppose. But tell me; is there anything you _do_ know that might be useful?" He gave me a low grin, his eyes peering through his still tangled bed hair.

"Besides you being annoying? Not much?" I sighed. Impossible man. Outside, the weather was as cold as ever, the brisk morning air cleared my head the moment I was struck with it. More effective than a splash of water to the face to wake you up. Of course, I wanted to wrap a blanket around my shoulders too, but there wasn't one handy. I went to the tavern, as it also served as a place of food as well as drinks. Eventually, my crew came in, one by one, and soon we were all sitting around the table once again.

"Find anything interesting around town?" I inquired, though with not much hope of having anything exciting to talk about. Much to my surprise, there was much to talk about, everyone had a little story to tell. Except Sir Victor, who only sat there, not eating, silent behind his metal visor.

Carrin had been her usual busy self, slipping around the town in the shadows, seeking something that looked valuable. I could have told her that there was most likely nothing of noticeable value around to swipe, but she found a little boy yelling for help, saying that goblins had stolen his fish. Carrin may have been smaller than the rest of us, and more of a thief than a full fighter, but she still knew how to hurt things, and she had dispatched the troublesome creatures, rescuing a partly eaten fish.

Lady Cassandra and Sir Victor both had gone to the local temple, a shrine dedicated to Tempus, the Lord of Battles. There they had met Everard, the High Priest, and had spoken for a brief time. They had learned that the site of Easthaven actually a great deal of significance, being the same place where, centuries ago the barbarians of the North took up arms against a corrupt wizard named Arakon, who had aims to take over the lands.

The barbarian leader, a shaman named Jerrod had rallied the northern tribes, and defeated the invading wizard's army of mercenaries. But it went deeper, for this same Jerrod saved countless lives when the defeated wizard had opened up a gate to the Hells, summoning up demons to his aid. Jerrod had supposedly been visited by Tempus himself, and had sacrificed himself by leaping into the portal, and sealing it, his blood fusing the portal to stone. The disk still lay under the temple, with his body frozen within. _A fine story_, I thought to myself.

And Sol had assisted a fisherman named Jhonen with dreams he'd been plagued with. Turns out a sea-elf was trying to speak to him through his dreams, wishing him to have a blade of his ancestor. Sol, being a softy somewhat, went out of his way to act as courier, delivering the tattered blade to Jhonen, with assurances that the dreams would cease.

With the swapping of tales done, I proposed we go and speak with the Hrothgar fellow, as he did wish to talk with us on some business, as he put it.

The locals pointed the way to Hrothgar's home, a decent place, though the room of the porch could certainly stand to a have a patch job. Several boards were missing, causing a good deal of snow to pile up on his porch. Now, I'm not one for barging in to a place unannounced, though we have all done so before, but several knocks on the door didn't yield much of a result, so after a quick look at my friends, I pushed open the door, and in we went.

Inside the house was cozy and warm, and finely decorated with what could only be trophies. But instead of the traditional mounted heads; a bear, a lion, or some other creature, he had the heads of monsters mounted across his wall.

A mind-flayer, a giant metal bull head of a gorgon, and an empty one, holding, if the plaque was to be believed, an invisible stalker. In addition to these, there was a large rug stretched across the ground, the hide an unsightly creature with many legs. Scattered atop Hrothgar's desk and on shelves and tables, there were bits and pieces of other creatures and knickknacks. To acquire so many items and prizes, one must do quite an extensive bit of traveling indeed.

Hrothgar was behind his desk, filling out some writings, perhaps letters or something, but when we made our entranced, he rose from his seat, coming around front

"Well met once again!" he greeted warming, "and welcome to my home. Please make yourselves comfortable…but try not to break anything. Many of the curiosities you see lying about have…sentimental value."

"Funny," I heard Bishop from behind, "You don't _look_ like the sentimental type to me…"

"Ah they're all remembrances of my adventuring days. More keepsakes than valuables really. Little trinkets and the like that I've picked up over the years. Remnants of my past days of fortune and glory."

"It would seem you've seen much glory," Sol pointed out, inspecting some large teeth spread out across the room on a table, "But not so much fortune. As I have in the past."

"Oh brother," Bishop grumbled.

"Oh don't be deceived," Hrothgar told him with a curious grin, "I've had an equal amount of fortune as fame, rest assured. But riches are not things to be showcased as openly as these. Nor do I see them as important as reminiscing about past adventures. The profession of an adventurer is to be for the thrill of the fight, not in the purse."

At this, I turned about, as I had been getting a hunch. When I looked over my shoulder, my suspicions were confirmed. Carrin was craning her neck in every direction, eyeing the many pieces around the room. She must have sensed my eyes, for looked up at me with an innocent expression, as if silently asking, "What?"

I responded with a look of my own. "This _isn't_ a man to steal from."

"You said left over from you past days? You make it sound as if you're retired, but judging from you armament, you look as if battle will spring up at any moment." He chuckled, pulling off his sword, and laying it across his desk.

"Yes, in truth I'm semi-retired. These northlands are still rather untamed, so I've had more than a few opportunities to take up my sword and protect this town, as well as our neighbors from the numerous threats that we are beset with. Which, as a matter of fact, why I asked you all here today. We've received word from Kuldahar; one of our neighbors to the south that there has been trouble about, evil or something has been brewing in the Spine of the World Mountains. A messenger showed up here a few days ago, wounded and near delirious, but he did claim that The Archdruid of Kuldahar had sent him here to request help."

"Evil?" Cassandra spoke softly, even a word as dire as _evil_ still sounded delicate and pure coming from her, "What sort of evil?"

"I'm actually not too sure. The messenger was badly hurt and disoriented and wasn't very specific. But I do believe that he was serious, and that's why I decided to start an expedition to Kuldahar to speak with the Archdruid myself on this. And when you mention your profession, not to mention your readiness to engage in danger, I would be pleased if you would join us. If you are as experienced with dealing with evil such as undead, you'd go a long way into making our expedition a success. What say you?"

"We've been looking for possible disturbances around these parts," I told him, "And this sounds just the sort of thing we deal with every day. The Six Pale Hands would be glad to join you on this endeavor."

"Excellent, glad to have you on board. With you with us, we should have an easy time with the journey to Kuldahar."

"Good," Bishop yawned, "Glad to be moving on…The quaint of this little town just isn't doing it for me. Too boring. So, when do we leave?"

"Well, there are things to be done, but we _do_ need to hurry, as the snow has been heavy as of late, and we need to make it through Kuldahar Pass before it is sealed off. I'd like to leave in the next three or four days…I would leave sooner, but I've had some problems that need to be addressed in town before I go."

"Problems," I asked, "What sort? We'd be happy to assist you if we can." He glanced among us, rubbing his jaw.

"Now that you mention it, you _may_ be able to help me. That could certainly speed things along, as I still need to gather a few others for the expedition. The local shopkeeper, Pomab has been expressing some concern about his stock thinning out, as the normally scheduled caravan from Caer-Dinival is long overdue. Now normally I take Pomab's whining in stride with a grain of salt, but with the strong snowfall, it would be best if it is located and makes it to town."

"So what would you want us to do?"

"I would you to try and find the wayward caravan, and see it safely to town. You should leave by way of the southern bridge, and follow the shores of Lac Dinneshere searching in the hills to the west of Easthaven, as caravans usually stick close to the waters edge this time of the year. While you're doing that, I meanwhile will be making the final preparations for our journey. I wish you the best of luck with your search."


	4. Looting Marauders

**Chapter 4: **Looting Marauders

We had just come to the town the day before, so we certainly knew our way back out again. There was a bridge to the south, across the water and lead us to the trails that could guide us around to the west. That's where Hrothgar had asked us to look for the wayward caravan. We began our search at once, Carrin taking point as she usually does, dashing on ahead to act as our eyes and ears of any sightings or dangers.

"This seems a bit trivial, don't you think?" Sol inquired as he shuffled through the snow, "Hunting down a caravan that's lost its way? That hardly seems worthy of our talents and abilities…"

"It's for the people of Easthaven," I reminded him, "Not having a local shop in business could hurt their fishing and thus, their lifestyle. Besides, until this done, we can't set out of this expedition Hrothgar mentioned. Think of this as a warm-up for the real thing."

"I'll say this much," Bishop put in, "I'm hesitant to do anything beneficial to help that little weasel of a man. You have no idea how close I was to gutting that gomeral like a mackerel."

A sentiment that we all shared I'm sure. We had met with the shopkeeper Pomab before we had departed, the one we were helping out, to perhaps be given a better idea as to where the caravan might be or leads to finding it. What we found was a wiry rotten little man who didn't seem to have the time of day for us, dismissing us as barbarians and the like.

He seemed to become fairly upset when we mentioned that we were looking for the caravan, going on about their tardiness and the like. I know that Bishop wasn't the only one who found his manner distasteful. Before we left, I inquired as to why he was in Icewind Dale in the first place. I managed to make him look rather foolish, and he went off to the backroom in a huff, clearing disliking being outwitted.

"We may not like him," I told Bishop, "But before Hrothgar can leave Easthaven, he needs this done. So the faster Hrothgar can leave, the faster we can leave. Let us not put Pomab into the equation at all, and things will become much easier."

"Why do you always have to ruin my bad moods with your logic?" I gave the disgruntled fellow a smile.

"Because, I much rather see your charming beaming face."

From further down the road, we heard some sudden howling and snarling. We dashed on, to find Carrin facing off against a small pack of wolves. At our furious approach, the beasts backed off and turned tail, disappearing amongst the rocks

"Took you long enough to catch up," Carrin mockingly told us, "What happened? Did Victor's armor freeze up, or did one of you fall into the snow too deep?"

"Har har," I answered sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "Have you seen any trace of the caravan?"

"Yeah, and _I'm_ fine, thanks for asking. I saw an orc hanging out by that outcropping of rocks. He took off when the wolves went after me. There's a wooden cart sitting outside. Stripped clean. I think we've found out why the caravans so late."

"Hmm," I mused, "Orcs eh? Well, we have to enter after them. We need to verify what has happened to the caravan, whether they were waylaid or not. Besides, after dealing with that town of walking dead a few weeks back, I dare say I look forward to fighting opponents of flesh and blood."

"I certainly don't share those sentiments," Bishop leaned against the rocks, looking bored, "Orcs smell terrible, and with my sensitive nose, it's all the worse."

"Oh and I suppose the smell of carrion and decay is more to your tastes?"

"Anything beats orc."

We could have gone on like that for who knows how long, but Sir Victor had tramped past us, drawing out his enormous maul. We fell silent, and readied ourselves. As I had said, Sir Victor speaks with his actions rather than his mouth. And when he pulls out his hammer, he has one thing on his mind. Using it against evil. And orcs for the most part are indeed evil. We followed our stalwart man-mountain as he entered the cave, soundless with the exception of his mighty feet crush snow.

Inside, we found a few orcs lingering by the entrance, eating something. At the sight of the daunting paladin, they growled and made some garbled sounds in their primitive tongue, one of them rushing off, while the two snatched up their battle axes and charged. With a groan of steel, Sir Victor swung his great weapon, catching both creatures in the blow and driving them back, squashing them against the cave wall, their being a sound of cracking and wailing groans.

When he pulled his hammer off, the masses of flesh that were imprinted upon the wall had not but vague forms of their original shape. Grotesque. We progressed into the cave, the chilly wind from outside moaning with an eerie flare throughout the long dim passages. We proceeded carefully, and thanks to our lovely scout, we came across a readied ambush, waiting for us to waltz around the corner like stupid amateurs. Unfortunately for them, we were not so careless as to do such things.

Several archers were hiding behind rock outcroppings, with a few axe wielding orcs ready to charge, and even an orc shaman, who was undoubtedly skilled in perverted and tarnished magic's. The archers and shaman were our primary concerns. Carrin vanished into nothingness, already slipping her way out into position. I have to say, that room had several lit torches about, making the shadows scarce, and yet even so, she was still undetectable. We gave her a minute, and I gave my crew a nod.

With no fear, Sol stepped around the corner, as bold as day, whistling shrilly to attract attention. A moment later, he was chanting, and his fingers were waving through the air, and with a sizzling pop, a ball of fire went streaking from his hands, detonating right against the wall behind the archers with a deep resonating boom.

The sound send a shockwave of noise throughout the cave in its entirety, and the fire blasted out, smothering the archers with its infernal grasp. The moment of impact, the rest of us charged, myself and Bishop hung to the side whilst Sir Victor went straight down the middle, like a human bolder, ready to crush all beneath his unstoppable trek.

The shaman was already casting, but the sound of a grunt and snort was obviously not part of his incantation, nor was having a dagger sticking from his throat. Carrin was right on time. Their attack fell to pieces, the two survivors rushing off, into the deeper bowels of the cavern. We didn't mess about, proceeding in right after them. If we gave them too much time, they could mount another assault, which we didn't need.

Our goal was to seek out the leader of this tribe and slay him. In most cases regarding orcs or their kin, there is one leader of the tribe. Though usually not an orc, but a much larger and more powerful creature, able to bully and threaten the lesser ones into submission.

So it came as no surprise to any of us as we rounded yet another bend in the tunnels, drawn by the gibbering shouting from up ahead, that we came face to face with a massive and repulsive ogre, shaking one orc by the head, before braining him against the wall. He noticed up, and let out a grunt to his cowering minions. Pulling out an iron mace, he roared what was most likely a battle-cry, before he and his entourage came stampeding towards us, with death in their eyes.

We could have told them that such a rash action would do them no good, but since we were there to kill them, not to mention that orcs and ogres don't tend to listen very well, we didn't say anything. Sol was way ahead of my order, already holding a crackling ball of electricity in his palms, before launching it out with a wild throw. The lightning bolt slammed into the ogre, searing a hole right through his chest, leaving a smoking gap behind.

The bolt went on to ricochet around the cave walls, dancing like a sheet of paper in the wind, hitting several orcs as they ran in a dazed confused panic. It was unfair of us really, we were far more organized and skilled then they. It wasn't really a fair fight.

Nonetheless, we vanquished them all, our blades and one very large hammer claiming the rest of their lives. When it was over, Lady Cassandra said a quiet prayer. Compassion for even the worst of enemies. Such a tender heart…

Stuffed into a corner of the chamber were stacks of wooden crates, full of supplies and other paraphernalia, no doubt the caravan's items. They seemed unopened and unspoiled, so they were indeed salvageable. Unfortunately, there were far too many of them to be carried back to Easthaven by just us. We left them where they lay, scouring about the rest of the cave for more orcs. There were a few, and by our count, none of them escaped.

Once the cave was cleared, we left a simple marker behind, before journeying back to Easthaven. Without dilly-dallying, we went straight back to Hrothgar's, and found him still hard at work behind his desk, doing more scribbling. At our arrival, he rose.

"Ah good, you've returned. What news of the caravan from Caer-Dinival?"

"Well," I answered, "We found the caravan, what was left of it. It seems a band of orcs attacked and made off with the supplies. We tracked them to their hideout, a cave not far outside of town, and dealt justice to them. The supplies are still inside, and looked to be untouched. You could send several men with some carts to retrieve them." My news seemed to confound Hrothgar, for lack of a better word for his troubled expression.

"That is strange…It is not usual for orcs to be so brazen near a town. They usually perform raids further away, out in the tundra where there is little hope of reinforcements. I wonder if the coming winter is perhaps driving them…Or something else…" He trailed off, silently supposing other things. After a moment he came around. "In any case, thanks to your efforts, we can still retrieve the supplies and hopefully restock the local store. Perhaps this good news will make Pomab's whining a bit less substantial."

"Wouldn't count on it," Bishop told him, "I'd wager that nothing sort of mountains of gold would make a weasel like that happy."

"I dare say your right about that, but in these mountains, I wouldn't hold out much hope if I was him. But I must say, you six certainly seem to be quite capable; I wasn't expecting you back so quickly. I'm very relieved that we'll be having experienced adventurers coming along with us. Should make the trip that much easier."

"Speaking of that," I asked, "When do we leave?"

"I still have a few other preparations to make before we depart, to ensure that the town is looked after in my absence. Just a few things to gather and a few more persons. You might as well wait at the inn or tavern until we are ready. No sense in you standing around in the cold waiting."

"I hear that," Bishop concurred.


	5. Tragedy From Above…

**Chapter 5:** Tragedy From Above…

It turned out to be another day and a half before a messenger arrived at our inn, informing us that the expedition forces were gathering near the town outskirts. None too soon. My group doesn't have much of an affinity for sitting idle, waiting on others before action could be taken.

Bishop sat around, lazing in chairs, sighing heavily and moping. Carrin was restless, constantly walking back and forth through town, requiring movement to stave off impatience. Even Sir Victor, in his silent near motionless standing, seemed to be radiating an urge to depart. I myself was anxious to set out. But no matter how much we complained and sulked about the delays, they weren't going to accomplish anything…

But at last the time was upon us. It didn't take long for us to pack. We had all our belongings piled by the door only an hour or so after Hrothgar dismissed us on our last meeting.

We arrived just as everyone was assembled. Hrothgar and a few of his associates were hovering near the head of the group, talking quietly. We advanced, the crowd of average fellows of our party making way for us, letting us to the front. At our approach, Hrothgar raised a hand.

"Ah, you're here. I was hoping you'd make it. Seems everything is in order here. I trust you're ready to depart?"

"Very ready," Bishop answered, rubbing his shoulders, "Quiet town life doesn't suit me much. I'm itching for something to do…"

"Well, perhaps there will be a chance for that. We're just making the final packing arrangements, and we'll be off. We need to move quickly, else the Kuldahar Pass will seal with snow, and we'll be cut off. When we arrive, hopefully we'll have more information as to what the situation is."

"Very good. Our party is set. Shall we be off?" Hrothgar nodded, and quickly addressed everyone gathered there. He went over a few safety tips, a brief outline of our objective, and a warning to stay alert in case of trouble. With talk of evil stirring in the mountains, a wise idea.

He also introduced us, claiming us to be very admirable and trustworthy warriors. A bit flattering, but true nonetheless I suppose. With a small procession of our group, we exited Easthaven, several of the locals, children and seasoned fishermen waved us off. As we passed beyond the limits of the town, we looked ahead, at the snow covered hills before us. It was daunting indeed.

We didn't move at a fantastically fast pace. Some of the men accompanying us on this journey were locals of the cold, but not ones to traverse it so deeply or for prolonged time. We had gotten use to it, and our group soon took the lead. Hrothgar walked with us, but often had to move back to help others behind us. We assured him that if any of us spotted trouble, we'd holler.

In the long hours of traveling between places and settlements, there are the periods of silence that fall upon every adventuring party. They crop up, and bear down upon you. For one who likes to talk, myself included, the silence is a bit disconcerting, therefore to pass the time as well as keep the uncanny quiet at bay, I'll chatter on with my group, finding one subject or another to banter on about. I don't mean to be annoying, if I came across as thus, I just don't like things to be so eerily silent. Half of my party aren't the best of talker, but occasionally I'll find something of interest to discuss.

"Oh please," I nearly groaned, "Sol, I know you're a smart fellow, but you and I both know that you could never figure out how to thoroughly explain the laws of the Planar Realms, and to fully understand them. You are a clever fellow, I'll grant you that, but that is something that even the gods themselves may not know."

"You underestimate my cunning, good friend. I have been traveling longer than you. The mysteries of the world aren't quite so mysterious to this voyager, and I can assure you that I have seen things that you have not, in addition to taking part in grand experiences that leave one agape with awe."

"You mean like that time you were hallucinating from that snake bite?" Carrin asked, suddenly walking between the two of us, "And you believed yourself to be a celestial angle, and tried to jump off that inn's roof?" Sol's face turned the same color of his hair.

"Grr…I already told you! I thought it was a long root! How was I supposed to know that the place was a snake nest? And I'll not stand here and be judged of my actions while under the effects of venom! I could have died, not that you could have cared. If I recall, you were practically beside yourself with hilarity. I'm so pleased that my near-death experience was so comical for you. I wouldn't be surprised if you really _did_ wish for me to fall to my death."

"That's not true Sol, you're very important to the group. Whenever we can't sleep, all we have to do is listen to you drone on about yourself for a bit. That can put a dragon into a stupor."

"So naïve you are, my dear girl. Too young to properly understand the depth of meaning found in my heroic tales. And furthermore…"

Their bickering was suddenly overwhelmed by a noise even more deafening and ground-shaking. At once, we all went on alert, expecting a fierce attack. Instead, a roaring from above turned our eyes skyward. From the white peaks above us, an enormous torrent of ice and snow was crashing down at us, spreading out and crushing everything in its path. I heard someone somewhere yell.

_"RUN!"_

I ran…I didn't look back, I pushed my legs as fast as they could go, the soft snow hindering my movement to what felt like a sluggish crawl. The noise was deafening, and I was suddenly swallowed by ice. From all sides, crushing down, choking…frozen…I couldn't breathe. I must have numbed quickly, both body and mind, for once I was covered, I was unsure as to where I was, which way was up, and what time it was. All I could do was scream to my self, _I'm going to die!_

Before I knew it, I was pulled from the drift of snow. Sir Victor's iron hands under my arms, pulling me from the bitterly cold embrace of the snow, before setting me back on leveled ground. I began to gasp for air, loosing my footing, and collapsing in a heap, on my hands and knees, gasping down into the snow. I managed to swivel my head around, to stare up at him, the sun peeking through the thick clouds reflecting on his armor.

"I'm…in…your debt…Sir Victor." There was a grate of steel from above, as he was undoubtedly shrugging his mighty shoulders. After a moment, I pushed myself up, and looked around. "The others?" The towering suit of armor pointed, and nearby were my four companions.

"Is everyone alright?" I called out frantically, struggling to stand again, hoping beyond hope that my friends hadn't been crushed to death beneath the entombing snow. I hurried as best I could through the deep drifts, feeling my heart nearly leaping past my teeth.

It was a long and agonizingly few moments, but as it past, I breathed out with great gust of relief; they were all alive. Covered in snow, everyone was breathing hard, their skin rosy red with the extreme chill, but none of them had perished in the avalanche. They were shaking the powdered snow off themselves.

"Well this is certainly pleasant," Bishop pulled off one boot, dumping a pile of ice out, "Nice way to start off this little trip of ours. Tell me again, whose idea was it to come to the Dale? I want to thank'em with a slap to the head."

"Bishop please," I silenced him, "Now's not the time." Everyone looked gloomy. I could hardly blame them, a brush with Death _that_ close can leave anyone feeling rather hollow and dazed.

"What about the expedition?" I asked, looking back, "Hrothgar and the others?" No one said anything, staring down at their feet, avoiding eye contact with everyone. After a moment, Sol cleared his throat.

"He's gone."

"You're sure?"

"Don't ask me…Cassandra is already saying a prayer…I assume that he didn't make it." I glanced past him, and indeed our priestess was knelt in the snow, head bowed and hands clasped, silently praying. I approached, and waited for her head to rise.

"Are they gone, my lady?"

"Yes," came her answer after a brief moment. She rose, adjusting her cloak. Looking into her face, it was unexpressive. She never openly showed her sorrow. But her eyes had slight hints of tears, and a look of sadness at the disaster. "They are gone. We are the only survivors."

We gathered together, the six of us. Out of easily thirty people, the only ones to escape the avalanche. The silence around us was thick, not but the low swirling of the whistling wind, a cold lifeless sound.

"This is…horrible," Carrin whispered, stunned significantly. I put an arm around her, to comfort her shaken resolve.

"Yes, it is. But _we_ survived…We should thank the gods that we're all okay."

"Thank the gods?" she almost snapped, "How can we _thank_ them?" Her tone was pressing, almost hysterical. I had never before seen her so frightened, "Is it right that we are thanking them that _we_ survived…So many of them are dead…For what?"

"I can't answer that…But if we are to make due, we must see the brighter side of even horrible tragedies. Be strong Carrin." She sniffed, but nodded. I went around; making sure no one hadn't sustained injury in the catastrophe. We were lucky, how we had escaped was nothing short of miraculous.

"So," Bishop broke the quiet, for once looking slightly downcast, "Where do we go from here?" I glanced behind us. The wall of snow that had nearly claimed our lives was towering, a hundred spans at least. And who knew how thick. Climbing it would have been impossible, and I saw no way around it. Besides, that only lead back to Easthaven.

"We cannot go back," I addressed my group. "What we are going to do is continue onward…To Kuldahar. Regardless of the loss of the expedition, Kuldahar is still troubled by some manner of evil. We had agreed to discover what it was. We'll just have to do it ourselves. The task falls to us."

"No arguments here," Bishop said to me, "We got a job to do. And I'll be damned if I let a huge pile of snow stop me."

"Yes," Sol added, "We've faced adversity before, and we've never let it stop us yet. I agree; let us head onward to Kuldahar." Carrin was quiet, still shocked I image, and she could only nod. Cassandra's expression was answer enough for her.

"Sir Victor?" I asked. He didn't answer, but loosed his great maul, turned to the east, and began to tramp. _That_ was our answer. We would go on.


	6. Kuldahar Pass

**Chapter 6:** Kuldahar Pass

Before we moved out, we searched about the avalanche site for any equipment that had escaped being encased in the snow. Most everything had been smothered and was buried deep, but we found several other packs that had some dry food store and some basic but nonetheless useful tools that could help traverse the lands around us. Ropes and hooks and the like.

As we had been marching, Hrothgar had told us a bit about the geography between Easthaven and Kuldahar. They were a half a day's journey apart, being a rather straight forward path. The catch is that Easthaven was enclosed by high rocky peaks, the foothills of the Spine of the World Mountains, and the only direct route would be through a narrow valley between the two towns, named Kuldahar Pass.

One would need to pass through this area in order to reach Kuldahar. If the pass was snowed over however, filled in, it would be impossible for someone to traverse it, leaving the two separated from another, by an impassible wall of ice. Hrothgar had wanted to start our journey before the Pass had frozen up, blocking the route.

Looking down into the valley from out position, we saw that he had been right to hurry along. There was already substantial drifts already starting to pile up, and we could see several wooden roofs covered with a blanket of smothering cold. On the floor of the valley were actually the outlining farmsteads of Kuldahar itself, the furthest homes from the center of the town itself.

Usually, even in the harsh winters of the Dale, this area was still occupied by the people of Kuldahar, the snow not piling up here enough to force the people out. But things in the Pass looked lifeless, the houses nearby were empty and dark, and I had a suspicion that things up ahead wouldn't be friendly.

So we were all somewhat surprised to hear some staggering footsteps approaching, causing us all to look around. From out of nowhere, around a corner of rock came an older man, stumbling through the deep snow, panting steam and clinging to the rocks. He saw us and he came up, looking as if he had run quite a distance to reach us. I was fairly certain he hadn't been part of the expedition from Easthaven. One could hardly have missed him.

"Gods that be," the strange man was gaping, "I wasn't thinkin' anything could get outta that alive! Are you lot alright? Anything broken?" Bishop gave the man a frustrated look before casting a hand back at the towering wall of snow behind us.

"Alright? Half the damn mountain fell on our expedition, how _alright_ do you think we are?" I held out a hand to stay his aggravation, and Cassandra turned to address the visitor.

"We seem to be in one piece. And alive, which counts most of all. We thank you for your apprehension."

"Whoo, I sure ain't envying you, that's for sure. I was sleepin' in me cave over yonder, and suddenly everything around me was shakin' something awful. I came rushin' out here to see that huge pile o' snow come crashin' down! You must have someone watchin' out for you, as it's certainly lucky you decided to run forward rather than back. I wish I could say the same for the rest of your crew, the poor bastards. They ran backwards, and got sucked under. And I can tell you that it'll be months before I can get their corpses out and give'em a proper burial. I ain't diggin' through that pack of ice for somethin' like that."

"That's very touching of you," Carrin told him hotly, "Your concern is really stirring." The man didn't seem slighted, but merely shrugged.

"No offence intended young miss, but it be the truth. No sense in bein' too pristine about things at this point."

"Do you live around here?" I asked, breaking in, looking the stranger from top to bottom. His appearance suggested that he wasn't a frequent town dweller, his clothes ragged and torn, kept together by hastily sewn patches, and his unwashed façade was rugged and unkempt. There were houses in the valley, but from where I was standing, most were boarded up and empty, which meant he wasn't one of their occupants.

"Oh yes, I live out here, in my cave. Have for years. Been peaceful round these parts for a while. But not no more, no sir, things are getting' awful strange lately. The winds carryin' something foul on it, I'll warrant. And things will only be gettin' worse less something's done. But I'm wonderin' what brought you folks out here at this time of the year? Not many brave the winters round here on the move. Travelers or something?"

"In a sense. But since you're a…local, I was wondering if you could perhaps point the way to Kuldahar? We've never been to these mountains before, and haven't quite got our bearings." The hermit rubbed his jaw, before scratching his tangled gray beard.

"Eh? Kuldahar you say? Well now, I can't really see any reason to go that way, nothin' there except a great big tree and some huts built around it. It just looks silly, truth be told."

"We've heard reports that Kuldahar has been having some troubles, and we've come to see if we can lend some assistance. It is our job."

"If you don't mind me sayin' so," the recluse told us, "But you lot seem to be havin' all the trouble you could ever need right now. 'Sides, the towns around here always are havin' some sort o' trouble, it just goes with bein' in these mountains. It be a fools errand if you ask me."

"I appreciate your concern, but it is something we are sworn to do, and…"

"Look," Bishop obviously was getting tired of waiting for an answer, "Do you know the way or don't you? My feet are starting to go numb just standing here!"

"I suppose there ain't no harm it pointing you in the right direction," he turned and gestured down the valley, "You just head east down the pass, past the old mill a bit further up. But you'd best keep your wits around, there's been quite a few goblins runnin' around the pass lately. Nasty buggers have been crawlin' around the place since the farmers abandoned their homes. Actin' like they own everythin', and they'll attack you on sight."

"My thanks, kind sir. Good fortune to you." And with a gait, the old fellow shambled back to the nearest outcropping of rock, where a shallow cave was located. That left us by ourselves again.

"Everyone ready?" I asked, getting a response of five nods, "Good. Let's keep our eyes open. Carrin, if you could take point, and put some goblins in our sights, we can ambush them instead of the other way around. Bishop and Sir Victor, we three shall follow. Sol, you remain behind us with Cassandra, and out of harms way. If you see any hidden archers, you know what to do."

I tried to give these commands as gently as I could, as I knew everyone was still a bit shaken up, but the falling into our usual routines was somewhat comforting, as everyone set into motion.

There were goblins all right; a small horde of them, running all over the valley, breaking everything they got their grubby little hands on. We found most of them hanging around the old mill the hermit was talking about. In the world, one party of adventures could never be able to kill all the goblins in a war party, there were always far more than anyone ever suspected.

But a group of well-armed experienced adventurers, ourselves for example, knew how to send them scurrying for cover. With Carrin striking at their warriors from the shadows, Sir Victor, Bishop, and I charged their numbers cleaving any that came close, whilst Sol fired enchanted arrows right back at their irritating archers, all the while searching for their chief. They were always easy to find, adorned with bones, pieces of junk, and were generally a tad bigger than their brethren.

We found several goblin elites, who soon fell to our assault, throwing the remains of the war party into disarray, the valley filled with their high-pitched shrieking and gibbering, as they scrambled to get out of our way. Those that weren't fast enough were cut down as we proceeded.

Once the bulk of the goblin population had been dealt with, we were able to get closer to some of the abandoned buildings, giving them a closer inspection. They looked to have been hurriedly left, the previous occupants not taking the time to pack their belongings or valuables; as we found more than a few scattered gold pieces. Goblins had also found the house; the one with the mill attached, and had entered, their handiwork left by the front door.

We saw the bodies of a man and a young girl, cut open and frozen solid, suffering from numerous wounds. Cassandra bowed her head as we passed, no doubt uttering a prayer for them. Downstairs in the basement we found the culprits of the crime. Another rambling squad of goblins, ripping open sacks of grain and digging through them, looking for something wholesome to eat, as grain isn't in an average goblin's usual diet.

As soon as they saw us coming down the steps, the goblin commander waved his axe, screeching and hooting.

"Get food from humans!" The only thing they got from us was swift justice, and we soon destroyed the whole roomful, avenging the fallen villagers above.

"Wait a second," Carrin halted us, just as we were about to go tramping back upstairs. Her hands were cupped around her slender pointed ears, and she was listening intently. We silenced ourselves, and then, after a moment, she pointed silently to the base of the stairwell.

There in the wood was a small handle, no doubt concealing a crawlspace below the stairs. Moving quickly, we gathered around, and pulled open the hatch. Inside was a little boy, hiding under a few sacks of grains. When he saw us, he didn't appear frightened, but rather held his finger to his lips.

"Shhh," he hushed us from the crawl space, "Be quiet else the goblins will hear us!"

"You needn't fear any longer," I offered, "we've driven the goblins away, it is safe now." He looked at me a long time, before craning his neck past me, and saw several slaughtered goblins behind us.

"They're gone?" he asked, somewhat puzzled. "…Oh…" His face was blank as he stepped out of the hidden closet, looking up at us.

"Do you live in this mill?" I asked him, "What's your name?"

"I'm Jermsy, and yeah, I live here with…" he paused, before swallowing, "With my father and sister. The goblins got 'em…" He seemed quite calm considering his circumstances, though he did appear somewhat lost, as if unsure what to do. Without even my prompting, Lady Cassandra knelt down, and gave the boy a tender hug, pressing him against her.

"We are sorry about your loss," she told him, "But they're in a better place now. And you should not remain here alone any longer. We can accompany you to Kuldahar, we shall protect you."

"Hey now," Jermsy pouted defiantly, trying to push away from Lady Cassandra's bosom, "I'm alright! I'm no little kid! I don't need no one coddling me!"

Lady Cassandra released him with a warm smile, before glancing over at me. I stooped down beside the lad, laying a gloved hand on his head. "I suppose you don't. Nonetheless, you should come with us to Kuldahar; we're on our way there now."

"Naw, that's okay," he told us with a grin, "I know the way there, it'll be easy going without the goblins. And I know someone at the temple." He didn't even wait for an answer, and went hustling back up the stairs, before waving. "Besides, you'd best look after yourselves lest more goblins come get you! You've probably made them pretty angry!" And he vanished, heading out. "I'll leave some markers for you to follow," his voice wafted back down the stairs.

"Absolutely adorable kid," Bishop muttered, clearly not being the children-loving sort.

"He reminded me of a little you," Carrin told him with a smile, the first she had managed to work up after the avalanche. Bishop grumbled something, but didn't respond.

"Should we let him go alone?" Cassandra asked aloud, her brow showing her worry for the young child.

"I have little doubt he knows the layout of this pass better than we," I assured her, "With most of the goblins hiding because of us, he should be alright. I imagine it's not too much further to Kuldahar from here. Perhaps we'll catch up to him before we arrive."

We exited the mill, and checked the remaining buildings in case of any more survivors. We found no one, and it seems the goblins had pillaged the homes long before we had come. So, we began to tramp eastward yet again, following the walls of the valley, herding us to Kuldahar.

Along the way, we saw several little drawings that had been hastily marked on several large boulders, with arrows pointing eastward. It seems Jermsy was doing fine on his own after all. It was another three hours of traversing the deepening snow before we finally felt a dip in the pass floor, revealing an even deeper dale, and we knew at last that we had finally reached Kuldahar.


	7. The Archdruid

**Chapter 7:** The Archdruid

It was astounding really, as we entered that valley; it was as if passing though a magical teleporting gateway. Suddenly, the air was warm; my fingers were no longer stiffening in their gloves like icicles. The smell of trees and soil wafted under my nose, unlike the other scents of the mountains, all but crystallized in the frozen air. The snow beneath our feet steadily vanished, replaced with short blades of healthy grass, and for the first time since entering the Dale, I felt relaxed.

After a day of peril and deep sadness, of hard travel through increasingly thickening snow banks and slippery rocks, a steaming meal, several pints of fiery liquor, and a warm room for the night was sounding heavenly to me. My appeal to comforts once again, though after the tragic events at the Pass, I'm certain that everyone was feeling the need to settle their nerves and calm their battered souls. For this certainly felt the place do so.

Before us was the legendary great tree of Kuldahar, an enormous oak. And for any who have never seen this tree, there are no true words to adequately express its profound splendor and awesome stature. It is a colossal tree, hundreds and hundreds of spans high, its upper most branches vanishing amongst the gray clouds. Its trunk thicker than the greatest of mead halls, its ancient bark wrinkled and gnarled, its mighty roots burrowing and cresting throughout the ground, many bantam buildings and shacks being constructed in their shelter. In the cool breeze, we could smell the tantalizing aroma of cooking meats, making my own belly's gurgling in hunger.

But truthfully, I barely noticed it; I was still awed by the marvelous tree towering before us. It was incredible.

"Amazing," I could hear myself gushing, as it was quite the sight, "What a tree! I've never seen its equal! How in the name of Helm does a plant grow to such size? And in this place?"

"With the help of the gods," Carrin murmured.

"The gods?" She gave me a mischievous grin, before giving off that scholarly look of hers, when she knows something that I don't. She likes to bask in those moments.

"Legend said it was a seed dropped by Silvanus himself, the Oakfather, when Faerun was born. And the druids of this region have tended to it over the course of centuries, keeping the balance as they like to say. It's a major symbol of the strength and tenacity in adversity, and a testament of the awesome power of nature, and as to why it should be respected and honored."

"Where did you hear about all that?" I asked intrigued as I gazed at the mammoth tree.

"I read about it in ancient elven lore, in many scrolls and other tombs when I was younger."

"_Younger_?" Bishop asked, giving her a grunt, "You're already a squirt now. What, were you given reading material when you were still an infant? I tell you, those elves certainly like to educate 'em while their young."

"Don't be such a poor sport Bishop," Carrin told him, playfully socking him on the arm, "You're just sore that I'm smarter than you, prettier than you, and can handle my liquor better than you."

"Yeah well, I smell worse than you, so beat that."

"No thanks Stinky."

"Now now children," Cassandra gently intruded on their bickering, a job I normally handle, "Play nice with one another." Bishop snorted at that, but the two desisted. "This place is soothing," Cassandra joined me in looking at the vast tree. "A safe haven in these perilous mountains, a place of refuge. Undoubtedly the reason it is beset by evil."

"Indeed," I agreed, "Well then, let's see if we can lend them our aid."

We made our way down the hill, stepping in grass and soil rather than crunching snow. As we approached the edges, we spotted a young boy, about the same age as Jermsy, sitting on a large rock next to the path. When he spotted us come tramping up, he jumped to his feet, waving his arms before dashing out to meet us.

"You made it!" the boy came rushing up to us, before pausing to catch his breath. He then looked past us, glancing about. "What?" he asked, sounding puzzled, "are you all there is? I thought more were coming."

"Do you live here?" I asked the lad, "Were you expecting us?"

"Yeah! I'm Nate. Arundel said that help was coming, so I've been out here waiting since this morning. But I thought more of you were coming? Are you the scouts or something?"

"We're all of the expedition that made it, I'm afraid. But who is Arundel?"

"Oh boy, just you guy's, that's not good…Huh? Oh, Arundel? He's my best friend; he's really smart, and _really_ old, and sometimes he can talk with animals. He's neat. You should probably go see him; he's been waiting for you to come."

"Where does he live then lad?" Nate turned, pointing towards a simple wooden bridge across a brook. "Right over there, his is the house with the big rocks out front. You can't miss it."

"Very well, we'll go talk with him. My thanks Nate." We went on, crossing the bridge and finding the house. It had several enormous dark boulders standing up in the grass, looking to be imbedded deep. The building itself was quite small, a modest design, with a single round window on the front, and a simple rustic door. With a tug, I opened it and we went inside.

The interior of the home was a very natural setting, the great roots of the tree running through the building. There was a fine wooden staircase rising to the upstairs, and the ground floor was adorned with books, and simple pictures. There was no floor to speak of; its carpet was long blades of vibrant grass, a few lanterns overhead throwing some dim light about the cozy room.

Sitting in the corner was an elderly man, ruddy wrinkled skin, wearing a brown robe of leather and some sort of hide. As we tramped inside, he rose, pushing himself up and he came out into the light, his hazel eyes bright and keen as he examined us. Despite his age, he moved with surprising quickness and precision, coming forward to meet us.

"Welcome," he greeted, though his face seemed somewhat grim, "I have been expecting you for some time."

"My thanks," I politely returned the greeting. "I am Dominic Hugos, of the Six Pale Hands, and these are my friends and companions," casting a hand at my crew, "You say you've been expecting us?"

"Yes, bad tidings have swift wings here in the mountains. I have been waiting for your arrival, part of the expedition from Easthaven. For you see, I am the one for sent for you."

"You? You're Arundel correct? But why would you…"

"_He's_ the Archdruid," Carrin interrupted me, looking somewhat smug at figuring it out faster than me. I suppose that was because she had more experience with druids and the like than the rest of us. "The leader of Kuldahar, he's the one who sent the messenger to Easthaven."

"You're the Archdruid?" I asked, to which he nodded.

"Yes, I am Arundel, the Archdruid of Kuldahar, though I would like for you to dispense with formality, and merely call me Arundel. Titles have little use in this small community, they only serve ones vanity."

"Alright. So, _you_ sent the messenger to Easthaven, talking about evil forces? Can you tell us more?"

"Yes, I did send Hallaster to Easthaven to seek aid, and I know what fate befell him on his voyage. His death weights greatly on my mind, as he was a good friend and a trusted companion. He will be sorely missed, as will Hrothgar and the others of your group."

"Wait a minute," Bishop interrupted, getting that scrutinizing expression, "You know he's dead? You _already_ know about that avalanche?" We all looked at the druid, whose face was bleak as he nodded, leaning in and lowering his voice.

"Oh yes, I know. And I also know that it was _no_ accident. _Someone_ or _something_ did not what your expedition to make it to Kuldahar. I am quite thankful that at least you six survived."

"Someone or some_thing_?" Carrin echoed, and then shivered. "Uh, I don't like the sound of that…"

"Just what is going on around here old man?" Bishop demanded, lacking tact as always. Arundel didn't seem to mind.

"There are malevolent forces stirring in the mountains, an evil that has no face, that is even now threatening the balance we druids have kept for centuries, which would cause the Dale to fall into chaos."

"That's not very specific," Sol muttered, "Malevolent forces? Could you be more explicit perhaps? It is not a wise idea to face an unknown enemy." Arundel sighed, before waving at a handful of well crafted wooden chairs around a squat round table of similar design. We sat, except Sir Victor, who towered behind us. Arundel sat as well, his face seeming almost haggard and worn, this unknown wickedness, whatever it was, was certainly worrying him.

"Oh, if only that I could tell you more. This evil remains hidden, but its presence cannot be denied, the signs of its existence are all around. The increasingly unnatural weather, the rash of abductions, and the unusual monster activity in the mountains…they all point to something sinister. Even the wildlife can sense something is amiss."

"Unnatural weather," Bishop grunted, shaking a few traces of snow from his clothes, "I'll say. All this snow, it's getting kinda old."

"Snow is nothing strange," the druid told him, "The winters of these mountains has always been harsh and formidable, but _never_ like this. Raging storms flare up with little or no warning, tearing across the peaks for sometimes days at a time, before vanishing mysteriously. It is hardly into Leafall, and already the passes south are sealed with snow. Nature is a force of cycles, and this sudden change in the conditions is not natural."

"So maybe that's why you don't like the snow so much Bishop?" Carrin suggested, her chin resting in her hands as she grinned at him, "Maybe you'll like it better when we fix things?" Bishop humphed at that.

"I doubt it."

"Well, there is _certainly_ no doubt about the increase of monsters," Sol noted, "Hrothgar…before the avalanche anyway, had though it strange that there were orcs prowling around close to town. And there were _many_ goblins in the pass, up to no good it looked like, tearing the homes there apart."

"Yes," Arundel agreed, "It is not normal to see their kind so far from their mountain caves, out so close to towns at this time of the year. It would have taken something great to lure them out of their caves and into the snow, something that draws them, like vultures to the smell of death. And if goblins were not bad enough, I have observed many giants moving through the pass, sometimes as many as ten. Giants only act together when they are organized and following a similar purpose. Furthermore, I have watched their movements, and they seem to circle around the pass in a deliberate patter, almost as if…they were on patrol. And I have even found other tracks amidst the snow while I was following the giants, tracks I have never encountered before. What sort of creature made them…I cannot say."

"You also mentioned abductions?" Cassandra recalled, "Have people been disappearing from the town as of late?"

"Ah yes…Terrible it is…terrible. At first, we merely heard rumors of travelers, about companions snatched from their bedrolls in the middle of night. Though such things are not uncommon here in these mountains, so we did not dwell on this. Then one night Conlan, the local blacksmith in town, his boy Sheemish disappeared. The whole town searched for him the following day, but could find no trace. After that went Maegan Potts, a local midwife, and Eidan, the owner of the Evening Shade inn vanished only three days ago. I'm afraid the abductions are becoming more and more frequent; someone else is taken every few days. It has everyone deadly afraid."

"Even children?" Cassandra breathed, looking distressed, "That is horrible."

"Yeah, I think we're getting it," Bishop broke in, always having been the more direct type, "Things are strange. Now, what exactly do you want us to do? You wanted help? Well, here we are."

"We must discover this unseen evil that plagues the mountains quickly, or else I'm afraid all that has been built here will wither and perish in the wastes. It is acting like a disease, infecting the people of the Ten Towns with suffering, and as the people suffer, so does the Great Oak. And because of this, the circle of warmth that radiates from the tree has already begun to recede. We were forced to abandon the outlying farmsteads, as you no doubt saw on your way here. If something is not done soon, both the tree and the town nestled in its roots will die. This must _not_ happen. We need your help." I stood, adjusting my sword belt, and gave the old druid an unwavering gaze.

"You needn't worry Arundel; the Six Pale Hands stand ready to assist in anyway possible. What would you have us do?"

"I suggest you investigate the Vale of Shadows, which lies to the east of Kuldahar. It is a narrow ravine that has always clung to darkness, as if the sun itself is wary of the place. And there are numerous tombs in the cliff walls, as well as rumors that the dead have risen recently, and once more walk among men. If this is true, then I suspect that whatever is the cause for their rising is also behind the other disturbances as well. And I must emphasize caution in traversing the Vale, as the undead are not to be trifled with."

"No need to fret, my friend," Sol reassured, "Undead is _our_ specialty. We shall investigate this "Vale of Shadows", and discover if it has any connection with your troubles. Come friends; let us be on our way!" We all stood, except Sir Victor who was already standing, and headed to the door. Arundel rose as well, to walk us out.

"I can only hope you find something as you search. If you should come across anything, return here and we shall discuss a course of action. Good luck and farewell."


	8. Stirring Shadows

**Chapter 8:** Stirring Shadows

We did not set out immediately; we were still worn from the day's events. Though tired we were, we still all felt compelled to explore this marvelous little town more thoroughly, to meet the people and see if they had any useful information that could shed light on some of the current subjects of trouble. And…yes, to find a place to get both a hot meal and a warm bed for the evening.

I personally went about the town, and came across a most peculiar dwelling, looking to be a large wooden ship, mired between the craggy rocks on the outskirts of Kuldahar. This peculiar vessel was the home of Oswald Fiddlebender, a gnome playing with a less than filled sack of marbles, rambling from one subject matter to the next with the barest sense of what he was talking about. I did manage to discern that he was a potion seller, using his mysterious elixirs and salves, testing them, inhumanly as it may have seemed, on his cows, which were housed just outside his residence.

He also went into a semi-rant about his lodgings, claiming passionately that his house was actually a gnomish airship, able to soar by a balloon far above the clouds and to drift into the sunset at his leisure. Considering the rather unstable condition his frame of mind was in, I merely dismissed it as his idle meanderings. He was able to provide me with several useful potions at a very reasonable price however, from healing draughts to flasks of oil. Useful against the undead, as they have a noteworthy aversion towards flames of any sort.

Sol went by a large stone tower that was built on the far side of the tree, home of the resident wizard. Orrick the Gray, a man who was quite at home amongst Kuldahar. Gray is a color of neutrality, so it was fitting that he was residing in Kuldahar with the druid's sense of natural balance. And further, Orrick's lack of motivation for assisting Kuldahar with its current problems because of his disposition of impartiality, he was most deserving to be called gray. Nonetheless, both he and Sol spoke a great deal about magic and Orrick's all important research which consumed all of his time, more important than aiding the very town in which he lived. Sol did mention as to what it was, but all that procedural talk simply goes over my head I'm afraid.

Cassandra and Sir Victor both made their way to the local temple as they both had a habit of, to find a place of spiritual healing. Not only that, but Cassandra had expressed concern for the boy Jermsy, whom we had rescued from the isolated farmhouse in the Pass. She was quite insistent to know if he had arrived to Kuldahar safely. Much to her relief, he had indeed managed to navigate the goblins-filled passes, arriving at the temple of Ilmater in good health. He was still distressed about the loss of his family, but his will was strong, and he'd find a way to endure the harsh times he was stricken with. This did much to ease Cassandra's mind, though she was still worried about the possible evil emanating from the nearby Vale.

Carrin no doubt wandered around a bit, looking for valuables that wouldn't be missed, but had wound up at the resident blacksmith's home, Conlan, asking about his son's disappearance. The same one Arundel had told us about. Her inquisitive questions must have been met with favorability, as when she returned with some new magical armor, she told us with a sheepish grin that she had made a deal with him, telling him we'd find his lost child.

"I have no qualms about searching for the boy," I told her sternly, "But one often waits until _after_ the rescue is accomplished before they start asking for rewards." She shrugged.

"I didn't _ask_. I just mentioned that it would probably be dangerous, and he offered this armor that I had been interested in. I'd be rude to refuse it wouldn't I?" I sighed at that.

"Even when you aren't stealing, you're _still_ a thief." She laughed at that.

"Oh, you can read me like a book Dom."

Bishop predictably sniffed out the closest thing Kuldahar had to a pub, the Root Cellar if I recall, and parked himself inside, ordering a great deal of beverages. He always defends his decisions by stating that there is always useful information and rumors circulating in local watering holes.

There is of course much truth to this, however the trouble is by the time he stumbles back to our company he has hardly any memory of going in the first place, let alone whatever insightful news he may have talked about. This time though, he returned more sober than usual, with a vibrant red hand imprint across his dark cheek. After listening to his grumbling, I was able to discern that he had gotten a bit too friendly with a barmaid and she had retaliated. I would be lying if I said it was the first time…

We spent the night at the Evening Shade Inn, run by a surprisingly temperamental halfling, but as the dawn rose, we found ourselves assembling by the eastern edge of Kuldahar, ready to travel and seek out this mysterious evil that Arundel was so concerned about. It didn't take us long to see for ourselves.

It was quite the hike through the snow from Kuldahar to the Vale, several good hours of tramping through thick drifts of ice. But we knew when we were getting close, as the day around us began to grow dim, despite the sun hovering overhead. Its lustrous rays seemed dulled by the shadows that began to crop up around us. The air was growing heavier, denser; the snow's previous pristine white was now an almost tarnished gray.

The surroundings too, began to grow harsher; less friendly and appealing to the senses. Where Kuldahar had been nestled in a gentle sloping valley, with green plant life flourishing around the great Oak, the further we walked, the more rocky the ground grew, full of yawning chasms and jagged points.

Without warning, the same shadows that had been growing more and more persistent around us began to move, shades of wavering darkness slithered out from the walls of the canyon. They were vaguely humanoid, but wore cloaks of pure darkness. They approached with arms raised, two pinpoints of red under their hooded heads, these sinister glares blazing at us, as they made horrid shrieks which tore through ones ears, like a howling wind.

It takes much to catch my party off guard, and the moment we had been drawing close to this place we had been on alert, watching and waiting. The further in we went, both Sir Victor and Cassandra began to show signs of watchfulness, not that we needed such a warning. We all had been present in many a den of undead atrocities before, and we knew what surprises they could bring.

As the shadows came lurching towards us, we met them, blades at the ready, swinging and hacking, though we were fully aware that there was no meat or muscle to be cleaved from bone. Tainted spiritual auras were all that was giving these creatures life, and by destroying their bodies, what little there was, their souls would have no means of maintaining their existence and be forced back to their awaiting afterlife.

Since we've dealt with these creatures before, we were ready, and sprung to attack. Sir Victor seemed their main target, and Cassandra. Bishop and I moved in front of our priestess, acting as her shield, whilst Sir Victor waded into them, hammer held high, swiping as he advanced. Carrin was dancing amongst them, slashing with a dagger, encouraging them to give chase. And when a mass of the shades were following, Sol began casting and thin tendrils of fire leapt from his fingers, piercing through the vaporous form of one and then the next and the next, leaving them shrieking and aflame.

Bishop and I preformed our own practiced routine of tagging. I would dash in, sword leading the way and fight one, whilst Bishop stayed back and fought another. As our enemies wavered, without even a nod or a gesture to each other, the two of us broke off our attacks, darted past one another, and set to work on the others foe until they fell.

Cassandra stood silently, as several other ghostly apparitions past us warriors, closing in on her. She watched; face unwavering as they approached, and as they grew near she lifted her hand, palm out, and with a wince and screech, the shades would fall away, some evaporating on the spot. With our combined efforts, we were soon by ourselves again.

"Shadows," I commented, wiping my still clean blade as a reflex, "tangible spirits. I think this proves that there is something amiss around here."

"Those things are gross," Carrin cried out, shuddering "They made squishy sounds whenever we hit them!"

"You mean…like _this_?" And Bishop began making this squelching sound, mimicking the effect, making Carrin cringe.

"Ewww, stop that you weirdo!"

"Yes please," Sol concurred with a quiver of his own, "That's repulsive."

We gingerly stepped down the snow-covered slopes leading down into the Vale, the fissures digging unevenly into the earth, gloomy precipices leering up at us as we picked carefully through the slippery craggy rocks. As we went along, Carrin, using her keen elven eyes pointed out several narrow openings along the constricted paths winding throughout the valley. Several had peculiar markings she wasn't familiar with she said, but their design suggest that they were most likely tombs. Undoubtedly housing more restless dead. The air was heavy around us, and the wind was whispering a woeful song around us.

"Quite mournful, don't you think?" Sol pointed out, once more stating the obvious.

"There is something unnatural in the air," Cassandra spoke, but to no one in particular. She was studying the numerous tomb entrances along the cliff walls, "I can sense a great disturbance in this place, there are many tortured souls wandering, their eternal sleep disturbed. I have no doubt there is a great evil lurking here."

"But is it the same evil that is befalling Kuldahar?" Sol pressed, "Evil is everywhere, I'm afraid. I've seen my fair share of it in my previous travels…"

"Oh give it a rest you windbag," Bishop slapped him on the back of the head, making Sol wince.

"If you'd just listen for a moment, you boorish bigot, I'm merely pointing out that yes, there _could_ be evil here, but it may not be what we're looking for."

"Who cares? If there's something out there, then we'll just deal with it now. Saves us the trouble. And if it's not what we're after, then we'll just keep looking."

"I am unsure," Cassandra concluded after her efforts of concentration, "I cannot tell what this malevolence is exactly, if it is what we are seeking, but it is somewhere in this Vale. Beneath us, in one of the tombs." Bishop scratched his scruffy hair, before yawning.

"Well, that certainly narrows it down…Can we actually start looking now? All this speculating is making my head hurt."

"Good idea," Carrin agreed, "And since you're so eager, you can go first Bishop. Set off all those pesky traps for us."

"You'd be so lucky…"

"All right, all right," I interjected, "As Bishop points out, we'd best get started. I say we enter the tombs as we find them, search for anything pertaining to our current mystery, and if we find nothing, we move on." Everyone agreed, and our rough-hewn mercenary drew his swords once more.

"Simple and straightforward…I like it."


	9. Steadfast Guardians

**Chapter 9:** Steadfast Guardians

We arrived at the first tomb, with no small amount of trials and tribulations. The ground beneath our feet was slick and uneven; we all had to watch our footing lest we plunge deep into the depths of the Vale. And yawning chasms aside, there were several groups of yeti's stalking along the narrow paths as well. To one who has never seen a yeti, heed my words; they _do_ indeed exist in the cold realms of the north and they have a temperament to widely surpass even the most cantankerous of dwarves.

They came rushing along the tapered trails, their howling carrying along the winding gulches like a forlorn dirge, their claws raised. My group and I do not scare at such bluster however, and we dealt with half a score of them before the remainder of their pride withdrew, wailing at the loss of their comrades.

Eager to get under way, with a deep breath shared by all, we delved into the tomb. The moment we stepped beyond the entrance foyer, we knew that something was there. And with a flare of light, a blistering illumination provided to us by the ever-esteemed Sol, casting eerie glows across the dim inner walls we could see once again. And we saw we were beset from all sides.

Shambling skeletons, armed with ancient decayed weaponry were grinding towards us, their hollow skulls unblinking unflinching, care-freely bobbing on their skinless shoulders. Cassandra stepped to the forefront of our position, and with a bowed head, she lifted a hand, palm out towards the advancing bones. They shuddered, looked to emit a soundless shriek of anguish before their fragile bodies exploded outward in swirling clouds of primeval dust.

Such a display would have sent living foes on the retreat, but undead have no fear, no doubt, no worries; they merely kept approaching, almost mindlessly walking into the cleansing aura of our priestess, their own befouled presence wiped away. Once the welcoming force had been dealt with, Carrin stalked carefully into the room, moving cautiously. Many places of the dead are set with numerous yet subtle traps to deter the living from grave-robbing, and could be easily tripped by the careless foot. Traps there were, though not many, and once disarmed, we scoured the interior more thoroughly.

It was a small crypt; its interior construction yielded nothing noteworthy. It had been hastily carved into the stone face of the cliffs I surmised, the stairs and rough hewn floors were uneven and coarse. Along the walls there were several shallow alcoves, many of which were overflowing with countless human bones, from the dead that had thankfully _not_ risen, as they seemed to number in the hundreds, almost like an army.

This possibility seemed to be supported as we found ancient weaponry and armor strewn about and set into crude caskets and on crumbling tables or dilapidated bookshelves, most of the equipment useless and corroded. A few meager torches, no doubt enchanted ages ago to remain lit were scattered about, providing some assistance in dispelling the gloom.

We found nothing in terms of an evil force, so we departed, traveling back along the cliff walls. As we continued, we were once again beset by shadows that crept out of the darkness, there being more in number this time. But despite their increased force, we didn't bother fighting these pathetic creatures, Cassandra strode before us, and with her calming purification aura the foul shadows had no choice except to fall back lest they be destroyed. We followed the path, which looked to lead in one roundabout direction, and we found the second entrance.

The next tomb appeared much as the first, though it was more festooned, having several alcoves with relics and items that appeared more intact. There was a small shrine with a crude golden idol, and at the end of a short hallway, adorned with several searing arrow traps was an old table, smeared with stains of blood from years past, perhaps a site of sacrifice.

Also, the haste of the construction was evident yet again as we saw an underground pool of clear water that had been trickling from the ceiling and gathering in puddles all over the place. The architect had obviously not cared about digging around underground water flows. But still, we found nothing overly unusual. Well, for a tomb chock full of walking corpses anyways.

A short hop, skip, and a jump through the snow outside, and we found the third cavern, marked with the same runes and glyphs as the others. And it was in this tomb that things started to prove more eventful.

I suppose our incursions previously had made the undead beings in the Vale aware to our intrusion, as the ghouls and skeletons of this particular crypt were more prepared. Their stronger creatures, ghasts and zombies strode forth to draw our attention as several skeleton archers fired decrepit arrows upon our group. Though the arrows hardly held together, I still foolishly caught one in the shoulder, forcing me to fall back. Cassandra too had to momentarily dispel her ability for purify undead to heal my wound, leaving the lot of the creatures to the others. Not that they truly posed a threat.

As the magic's healed the arrow wound, I could only stare in awe as Sir Victor strode amongst his enemies, the feeble opponents trying desperately to harm the man encased in steel. His hammer gleamed and shook the foundation of the mountains as he swung, pulverizing the brittle bones held together by dark magic. Bishop followed in his wake, striking down any that had survived with calm and precise precision. Carrin nimbly and acrobatically dodged the incoming arrows and crossbow bolts with ease, almost as if it were a game before closing the distance and dispatching their ranged warriors. That left the undead of decayed flesh to Sol, who I have no doubt took great delight in setting their withered and flammable skins aflame with the wave of his hand.

Once the current resident's of the burial chamber were dealt with we searched it from top to bottom. Again nothing of interest, save a growing pattern we saw in which this tomb, like the one before it, seemed to be slightly more elaborate than the last. We found even more tables that looked to have been used for sacrifice, more bronze figurines, and more ornamented coffins. And another indication of the taint of wickedness, a pool of fetid black liquid that had an overpowering stench of death and decay. I had no doubt that we were getting closer to our source.

"Damn," Bishop grunted after searching the third tomb, and having been attacked by a few straggling skeletons, "There are a _hell_ of a lot of these things. We haven't worked this hard since the Shore-Shire graveyard." Cassandra knelt down beside the skulls of the recently dispatched undead, before lifting it up and staring into its vacant eye sockets.

"Yet I feel something is amiss. I feel there is a certain…desperation in these creatures…As if they were not meant to be animated."

"Isn't that the point?" Bishop asked, "Isn't any dead thing not supposed to be…well, alive? Damn evil things…"

"You're generalizing again," Sol argued, coming up from investigating his corner of the catacomb, "It is true that more often than not the living dead are vicious and products of malevolence, but there are certain creatures of undead nature that are not inherently evil."

"Oh yeah? Name one."

"Have you heard of an Arch-Lich perhaps? In life they were benevolent souls that strove for good, and in death, they are just as honorable." Bishop scoffed.

"Phss…Arch-Lich. Legends and nothing but."

"Such an open mind you have…"

"Can you guys save this for later," Carrin shivered, returning from her scouting outside, "I don't particularly like this place, so can we just hurry up and fix things here and go?"

They desisted, and we began our search once again. But alas, we once more found nothing of interest. Outside once again, we continued. Thus far, our investigation had taken us across the entire Vale, from the western edge to the eastern, having to follow the winding ledges whilst avoiding enraged yetis and persistent shadows clinging to the darkness.

We warily entered the fourth tomb, right at the end of a forking path.

All we saw waiting for us inside this place was not another mindless horde of undeath, but a single skeleton, though far more menacing and a considerable height above the others. This construct wore armor and helm, as crumbled as we had seen earlier. Unlike the hordes of mindless skeletons from before however, this one had a slight glimmer of faint golden light, no more than pinpricks in its otherwise vacant eye-sockets. It swiveled its long-since rotten head, hefting its rather large sword, before lifting an arm devoid of flesh, and pointed straight at me.

_"Interlopers…"_ its voice mimicked the sound of filling a leather sack with gravel and shaking it violently, adding only a rasping hiss after each word it spoke, _"Leave this place."_

"I mean no harm friend," I called back, hopeful to perhaps gain a few much needed answers from the only coherently speaking being encountered so far, "I am merely wondering what this place is?"

"_This place is a sacred place for only the servants of our god…Leave at once!"_

"Your god?"

"_Myrkul, the god of the dead. These tombs are of his servants, no place for the living. Unless you are here to join the ranks of Myrkul, then leave now!"_

"A sacred place? And who might you be, a servant of Myrkul?"

"_I am…Therik. My brethren and I are guardians of these places, here only to prevent intruders from entering…Leave now!"_

"I have no intension of causing unrest amongst you," I assured, "But I seek a befouling evil that is plaguing the nearby hamlet of Kuldahar. I am wondering if you and your…_fellows_ are responsible." The skeleton warrior only glared back at me. It was always hard to discern expressions off a skull.

"_Kuldahar?"_ it repeated, _"I do not know that word. Leave now!"_

"I'm afraid I cannot, not until I am certain that this place has no ill-will towards Kuldahar."

"_So be it…"_ And without further communication, this formidable looking warrior lifted its weapon and started to lumber towards us.

Bishop lunged forward at the same moment, making a clean and surprisingly elegant sweeping pass, one of his swords striking the joint in the upper leg of Therik, where it connected to the pelvis, severing its leg at once. The skeleton stumbled, thrusting its sword point-first into the ground to prevent its fall.

I was a few steps behind Bishop, and my own rapier dove forward, its tapered point driving straight into the skull's eye socket, as if to gouge out its eye. Despite there actually not being a physical eyeball, the effect was about the same, Therik gave a groan before collapsing into dust, his bones scattering and the great sword clattered to the floor.

Once dispatched, we spotted an ancient bronze key, which had been hanging around his neck, a symbol I had never seen before was engraved on it, and my instincts told me it obviously was important, so I quickly stowed it in my pocket. We combed the tomb again, this one far larger, having a lengthy hallway leading deeper within, and even a descending set of steps leading to more coffins and an assortment of creatures. More shadows, zombies, and skeletons of course. Though as ornate as the room was, it wasn't what we were seeking. It just didn't have the overwhelming presence of malevolence that we were looking for.

So again we found ourselves outside, following the other fork in the trail, avoiding more ambushes from the persistent shadow-folk that hounded our every step. At the top of a slippery incline we saw the fifth door, and as one, we all knew…we had found it.


	10. Wrath of the BoneDancer

**Chapter 10:** Wrath of the Bone-Dancer

This fifth door was at the very rear of the Vale, and just by gazing upon it, one could see its obvious importance. This entryway was easily twice the size of the previous caverns, with several everlasting torches around the edges.

To either side of this yawning opening were two bronze statues, depicting identical robed figures, hooded with bowed heads, making identification impossible. As if this wasn't enough, as Cassandra peered into the unrelenting gloom beyond, a shiver running down her body caused her plate armor to shake.

"There is something exceptionally wicked within, as well as the taint of more powerful undead with it. Many of them."

"More powerful?" Sol echoed, squinting into the darkness. There was a slight edge on his voice, his furry brows furrowing.

"How _much_ more powerful? Are we talking say…more zombies or a necromancer or…" he paused, gathering himself, "Do you mean…a lich? A grim thought that is I'll say, to think that one of _those_ is creeping around somewhere ahead." Cassandra bowed her head, extending her spiritual self to try to delve deeper into the tomb beyond.

"I cannot be sure," she determined, "But the greatest of this taint is deep below us, beyond my senses. Whatever manner of being is causing it, it is quite malevolent. But yes, there is a possibility that it is indeed a lich."

"Marvelous," Bishop grunted, "That's all we need. I was hoping that Derithorn was the last lich we'd ever have to face. _That's_ not a battle I'd like to repeat, if you know what I mean…"

"For once I agree with you B," Carrin concurred nervously, "But we can't just run away now…we've come this far…and we can't just leave a lich or whatever it is down there, else it'll cause more harm."

"Well said," I patted the courageous girl on the back, "Lich or no lich, we'll not it stand in our way. Is that not so Sir Victor?" The towering steel man merely shrugged his great shoulders, but the way he held his mighty weapon, I knew he agreed. We prepared ourselves for a possible grim encounter ahead, and with our resolve steeled, we entered.

It was dimly lit inside, with enough illumination that Sol needn't waste his energies giving us light. There were several large torches scattered about, some in vast jugs on the floor, each spouting off a chilling sapphire flame, tinting the whole room in the same color. It was clear that this crypt was far more important than the rest.

The construction was fine, the walls and floors smoothed out with cobblestones and tiles, finely crafted pillars and columns held up the lofty ceiling. More adornments as well; several ceramic tiles marking the floor and walls. Right in the entrance foyer for example, was a mosaic of tiles, with a shape that was hard to discern on the floor, due to its broad nature. But after a little scrutiny, we saw that it was a paw print, a black print of an animal, perhaps a dog or wolf.

There was only a lone hallway leading out of this vestibule, with a scabby wooden door. It was rotten and festering, though at one time I imagine it must have been high quality.

Beyond the door we came across a horrifyingly grotesque sight that made our stomachs roil. Dominating the center of the chamber, at the top of a few stairs was an enormous pool…a vat one might say, that looked to go deep under the floor. Churning within this was a brilliant luminescent teal ooze, that bubbled and gooped with a most repulsive noise.

Floating atop this sludging befoulment were humans remains, a skull, a torso, a leg…pieces of incomplete skeletons bobbing and submerging randomly. A rank odor, of what I dared not imagine came wafting under all our noses, and we all, save Sir Victor and Lady Cassandra, recoiled from its toxic fumes.

"Gods," Carrin gaped, staring at the glowing slime, "What _is_ that stuff?" No one had any sort of answer; such a substance had never been seen by any of us in all our years of exorcising undead and spirits. We did not have time to be repulsed for long as several armored skeleton warriors and more ancient archers began to wake, their skulls turning to face us.

Sol stood at the ready, his hands having worked up a spell in half a moment and with a thrust of both palms outward, there was a sensation of the air around us heaving, along with a hollow thump that send the guardians flying backwards to impact and shatter on the far wall.

The few stragglers fell soon after. There was a great sealed door at the top of some steps, but it was locked, forcing us to search around. There were two side chambers, full of more skeletons, and several more glorious coffins. But no means of passing the sealed doors. It seemed that our advance was to be halted, but then I suddenly remembered the key we had acquired earlier for Therik, the one around his neck.

Though there was no keyhole in the door itself, but there was a small panel with an opening off to the side. Wit a quick twist, the key turned the lock, and deep in the walls around us I heard gears begin to grind, and the doors rolled back, revealing a darkened inner chamber, with four large skeleton warriors and a corpse that was highly adorned facing us.

_"Greetings to you stalwart explorers,"_ the center skeleton spoke with a surprisingly human voice as its dim eyes seemed to survey us, _"I am Bone Dancer Mytos. I feel I must applaud your tenacity and strength for progressing as fast and as far as you have, for no small feat it is. And now that you stand before me, I must wonder to myself…why is it exactly, that you have come to this place?"_ The massive bone warriors behind this Mytos did not seem ready to attack, so we held ourselves.

"I am Dominic Hugos of the Six Pale Hands," I greeting courtesy, "And I thank you for your welcoming. Am I to take it that you are the keeper and lord of this tomb Mytos?"

_"I? Nay friend, I am naught but the coordinator of the guardians, whose sole purpose is to protect this place."_

"And what _is_ this place exactly?" Bishop behind me pressed, "Pretty fancy grave for some dead guy."

_"Unfortunately, since you are not of our faith, I am not at liberty to speak of such things to you. But come now, you are the intruders in our home, yet you answer none of my questions. Why have you disturbed this place with your infringement?"_

"We seek a source of evil," I explained, "One that threatens Kuldahar, and we were asked to investigate this shadowy place to try and discover the source."

_"Kuldahar?"_ Mytos echoed_, _as if trying to recall the name,_ "Do you refer to the quaint hamlet beneath the giant tree? Yes, I'm sure that you do. To put your concerns to rest then, no, the evil you seek does not come from this place. You had best look elsewhere."_

"And we're just going to believe that?" Bishop scoffed, pointing at the bejeweled skeleton, "Like we're going to trust the words of shambling bags of bones." I gave him a hot look, not appreciating his attempt to pick a fight.

_"You are the ones who have broken into this place," _Mytos reminded, _"You have destroyed, plundered, and encroached in all of our tombs and sanctuaries, and you distrust us? Such arrogance."_

"It is not so much a question of trust," Cassandra interjected to my aid, "But the people of Kuldahar are frightened at the current misfortunes that have befallen them. To ensure their safety, we have little course but to seek out any source of malevolence and deem if they truly pose a threat."

_"A threat? Bah, such noble talk you spout, yet these tombs and guardians have existed here for centuries and have caused no harm to anyone from Kuldahar or elsewhere. No, I would instead hazard a guess that you have come to see what forgotten treasures lie here. Such are the foolish dreams of wide-eyed adventurers, seeking glory and mountains of gold amongst the long dead."_

"Such deplorable things are not part of our mission, nor would we disturb the dead with petty thievery even if it wasn't," I spoke out, somewhat offended that we were being accused of being mere grave-robbers, "We have come only to perform the task that was given to us, and as of now, our mission is not yet complete."

"_You mean your mission against evil in this place? Hmm, you might find further investigation difficult,"_ Mytos assured us, with the decayed grin, "_As there are many more of us down below, already preparing to foil this incursion."_

"_More?"_ Carrin and Bishop both groaned in unison

_"Yes indeed, more than you've come across yet. So I would suggest that you accept my word that we are of no consequence to your town of Kuldahar and be off from this place, sparing yourselves death and defilement at the remaining guardian's hands."_

"I'm afraid we cannot depart," I answered carefully, having an idea that violence was right around the bend, "Until we are satisfied that no threat to Kuldahar lies here, seeing so for ourselves, then we must remain. But come, all we ask is permission to search this tomb, nothing more. You have my solemn word as a gentleman of honor that nothing shall be disturbed and we shall leave no trace behind. Can we not come to any sort of agreement?"

_"No we cannot,"_ Mytos answered sternly, the light in his skull flaring brighter, _"I cannot allow you to intrude more than you already have, and you say you must enter to perceive the so-called threat. Thus you have your duty and I have mine, and this conflict was inevitable."_ With that, Mytos lifted his skeletal hand, pointing to us. _"Guardians! To arms!"_

Sir Victor was already moving, as Mytos hurled a swirling vortex of darkness at us with his outstretched hand, and our giant paladin altruistically shielded the rest of us from whatever dire effect it may have had with his own body. There was a quiver as he was held in place and we watched in horror as he was soundlessly swallowed whole by the shadow.

Bishop and I sprang to his aid, Carrin in step, and we tore into the skeletal warriors already lumbering our way. Mytos had retreated from the front lines, letting the combatants duel it out, whilst he would invoke more tainted magic's safely from the rear.

However, he was not expecting Sol to be there waiting for him, he having leapt through a dimensional doorway conjured up, and was now on his blind side.

"Foul specter," the enraged invoker cried out, his hands glowing, "Begone with you!" And lifting his arms upward, he held a blazing ball of pure white light, its warm shine mimicking the effects of pure daylight. The undead spellcaster staggered back, hissing in revulsion at the life-giving glow, his spell ruined.

And with his concentration undone, the sphere of darkness which had enveloped Sir Victor dissipated, and he was there once again, though not without effect. He sank to his knees with a groaning clank of armor, and merely kneeled there. It was difficult to discern his condition, but weakened or no, he never even slightly loosened the death grip on the handle of his great hammer.

Cassandra too rose to the occasion, having conjured up a translucent shimmering warhammer, and with no hesitation walked right past the still recoiling undead warriors and right up to Mytos, also stunned. With a bowed head, she lifted the enchanted weapon, and with a single strike caved in Mytos's skull, the now headless body collapsing in a heap. The rest of us showed no mercy, and we were soon alone once again. In the stillness following, we rushed to our fallen comrade's side.

"Sir Victor!" I called out feverishly, "Are you alright? Can you hear me?" There was no response, the suit of armor before us sat motionless.

"Come on Vic!" Carrin's voice once more gaining a hint of that wavering hysteria that came with her young age, "Snap out of it!" She grabbed Sol's sleeve and began to yank the slender man about. "Do something you old goat! You're the magic expert around here! What was that spell?"

"I have no idea," Sol answered, after steadying himself from being so jostled, "I've never seen anything like it. Though despite Mytos being a Bone-Dancer, whatever that is, I sensed that his magical talent was rather weak, all things considered. I myself am a more powerful spellcaster…"

"This is no time to be boasting you idiot!" Carrin hollered at him, jerking him about, "Who knows what's happened to him! We got to do something!" But before anyone else could say another word, the echo of rattling metal silenced us all.

Sir Victor shuddered, giving his head a shake and with a turn, his helmet tilted upwards, scanning our faces. With the slotted visor lifted, and though I cannot be truly sure, I could have swore I saw the glimmer of two grim eyes in the darkness looking back at me. Regardless, without a groan or sound, Sir Victor pushed his giant form back to his feet, steadying himself with his hammer.

"Vic!" Carrin cried out with a hint of moisture in her eyes, "You're alright!" And she threw her thin arms around him, trying to gather all of him in a relieving hug. We all exhaled our held breaths.

"Pssh," Bishop growled in relieved irritation, "You big ape, freaking us all out like that. I guess I should have known that it'd take more than that to bring a big guy like you down. I don't appreciate the near heart attack though…"

"Are you certain you are alright Sir Victor?" Cassandra asked, notable concern in her eyes. But our paladin merely lifted a gauntlet covered hand, a gesture to indicate his wellness, and in another moment he pulled himself back up to his full staggering height, hefting his hammer to the ready. We all still felt a bit apprehensive that he might collapse in a few steps, only having put on a facade of his recovery to slake our own worry.

But no, the man inside the armor was not so easily defeated, and he headed down another passage in front of us, his duty to protect driving him further. There were several more dead ends, all full of the ever present walking corpses, regular skeletons, and on the third path we found a heavy door, opening to a set of cold stone steps, leading deeper into the frozen earth below.


	11. Tomb of the Black Wolf

**Chapter 11:** Tomb of the Black Wolf

An extended corridor greeted us, dusky and eerie, there being no wind this deep, only an unnerving calm around us. Carrin went on her way, clinging to the shadows like an agile spider, before reporting back her findings.

"We're in trouble," Carrin's voice spoke from nowhere, reappearing a moment later from the thick unyielding shadows, "There's practically an army waiting for us at the end of this hallway, dozens of them. And they got wights too, and some sort of skeletal mage."

"A lich this time?" Sol inquired, "Or something like Mytos was?"

"Not a lich," was all Carrin could conclude, but the report of a non-lich was certainly a welcoming piece of news. Still, a literal army of undead abominations was certainly no small task, even for us experienced exorcists. But we had faced such odds before and had persevered. It merely required cunning and planning instead of rushing into a foolhardy fight. And perhaps a little magic as well, something Sol was always ready to assist us with.

I'm pleased to say here that those undead never had the slightest clue as to what hit them, I suspect. One moment they were standing poised in a very large central chamber, their undead gazes locked upon the corridor where the trespassers were sure to come, and the next they were being annihilated left and right.

But the room, it was quite a sight. A bit more…well, I shall say…festive than the previous ones. It was brighter, no question, there being a sort of faint gold shine throughout. In the center of everything was an adorned coffin perched atop a platform, with two diminutive pools of that stomach-clenching luminescent turquoise goop. And surrounding the dais it was sitting upon was three pillars of thick stone. Hanging from this stone were banners, once a vibrant crimson, now little more than tattered and frayed strands of cloth. There was also some manner of symbol embroidered into each banner, and it soon became clear that it was once more the print of some manner of beast.

But impressive though the room was, it was at the moment occupied. So with the cleverness of a crafty sphinx, we snuck as quietly as we could amidst the living dead defenders, they unaware of our presence. At least until our shroud of invisibility fell away, leaving us in the middle of them. Sol took care of scores of them with a well-timed force of invisible wind, sucking the bewildered guardians up in a whirlwind of magic, scattering their ranks. With a single clean swipe of her magical daggers, Carrin took the mage's head from his neck, halting the threat of another magical bombardment.

Bishop, Sir Victor and myself emerged from the darkness behind the towering wights, undead minions of great size and horrible strength. Among their number, save the now dispatched skeletal mage, these creatures posed the greatest threat. And when all of the remaining minions turned to engage us, out stepped Cassandra, hands held high, and with an almost palpable chorus of screams, many skeletons and their kin disintegrated on the spot, the rest driven away in a near mad stampede.

"Be at peace tormented ones," our priestess prayed as she gazed about at the carnage around her, "Let your rest be serene and everlasting." With a little work, we hunted down and eliminated the remaining forces, until only we remained.

"Hah, what's an army to us?" Bishop congratulated himself, "we're smarter and stronger than them. No sweat."

"Well," Carrin poked him in the back, "since you're so mighty B, we'll let you go on ahead of us and deal with any that are left. Since it's no sweat…"

"Speaking of which," Sol pointed out, "Exactly _which_ way is the way ahead? There doesn't seem to be any particular exit out of here."

There were several paths to take, of course, but most merely led back to more tombs we surmised, and would become dead ends anyways. Across the way, behind the shimmering dais, we saw an entire wall covered with polished brass cogs, interlinked and connected, like the inner workings of some gargantuan clock.

"Look," Carrin pointed out, "There's a lever on that pillar!" And indeed there was. Naturally, she checked it first, as wouldn't it have been grandly intelligent of us to pull on the appealing lever only to incite the whole tomb above us to come crashing down? But fortunately it did not seem rigged to hasten our deaths, so we gave the ancient up switch a pull.

It took Sir Victor the barest of pushes to free it from its restraints of rust, and from all around us there was a horrible groan far worse than any sector, spook, or phantom we had ever encountered. After a generous amount of turning about with blades ready, searching for the newest threat, Sir Victor casually pointed to the gears set in the wall in motion, revolving with a meticulous slowness. And let me just say right here that ancient machinery forced into action after centuries of inactivity and the tortured wail of some abominable apparition sound _very_ similar. Anyone could have made the mistake. _Ahem…_

But after a few grinding turns, the gears fell silent, there being no other result of their moving. We were waiting for something to occur, standing as still as stones, waiting and listening.

_"That's it?"_ Carrin asked, sounding a bit put out, "We pull some elaborate lever, the room shakes, and after all that show nothing happens? What a jip!"

"Perhaps this is why," Cassandra suggest, having found the answer, "A flaw in the mechanism." A single cog was absent from the weaving of intermeshed machinery, and without it, others would not turn, resulting in a breakdown.

"This puzzle must be the way forward," I concluded, "So; in order to proceed we must find the missing component, or something that will work in its stead. Right…Carrin, you go with Bishop and Sol and search the northern rooms. Holler if there is a great evil there. Cassandra, Sir Victor, and myself will search this room."

"You got it Dom," Carrin grinned, slapping the wiry Sol hard on the arm, "Come on you old guy's, we got searching to do." Sol heaved a sigh before following, while Bishop grumbled something that was more than likely uncomplimentary before trailing after them.

Searching the lower sections of the tombs was our task, making a thorough sweep for the missing cog. What we found, of course, was more undead, pouring out of every available crevice it seemed to harass us unendingly. Sir Victor led the way, uncaringly springing a few wire traps that sent projectiles aiming for him. They were merely repelled by his armor, bounding away harmlessly with echoing clangs.

And when five towering skeleton warriors emerged from nearby crypts, it was our prevailing paladin who rose to face them with his usual grim determination. I had to hang back, as numerous ghasts were rushing me and Cassandra, but their clumsy moves were no match for my well-timed thrusts and impeccable swordsmanship.

"They certainly are persistent," I noted, with the battle concluded, "And numerous."

"With all of there guardians," Cassandra commented, staring down at the shatter corpses left in our wake, "Whoever's tomb this is they protect must be someone of importance. And to willingly conjure the dead to guard, someone with little conscience."

"If all goes well, then we shall find out for ourselves soon." If Sir Victor concurred, he did not say so. The path we chose yielded guardians, but no missing piece to the door puzzle, and we returned to the main chamber, awaiting the others. They came back shortly, and before they even asked, I shook my head.

"Naught but more guardians, hounding our every move on our end. How faired your search?"

"Quite well, I must say," Sol had a triumphant smile, holding a small piece of brass, "We were successful in locating our wayward gear, meaning the way forward is open."

"Let's hope so anyway," Bishop murmured, "I'm getting real sick of tramping around this hole." Sentiments we all shared I'm sure, so we wasted no time. We replaced the fallen cog, and tried the lever again. This time, there was in addition to the groaning of machinery, the grinding of stone, as a huge slab of rock was pulled aside revealing another set of steps, leading down once again.

"The evil is close," Cassandra felt the sinister aura emanating from beneath us, "Take care and step cautiously." Indeed, and I not being a cleric myself could feel the taint all but radiating before us. We steeled ourselves again, and plunged onward.

Another horde of living dead greeted us the moment we emerged into the next room. There was no time to construct another sound battle plan this time, as they were upon us with no hesitation. What followed was a frantic and chaotic melee, us against them in a massive free-for-all.

As was his nature, Sir Victor selflessly plowed ahead of us, drawing much of the enemy's attention to him, as he swung his great hammer. Cassandra's mystic barrier rose at once, giving us a small circle of protection, Bishop and I stayed upon the edge of it, cleaving and striking any that wandered too close. From behind there was a shattering roar of thunder as a lightning bolt tore a dozen or so to pieces. Bishop and I closed together, fighting side by side.

Our eyes caught one another's for a mere second, and in that moment, I tossed my head towards Sir Victor. "Go!" I shouted even as I parried yet another rusty sword aimed for my heart. That was all the communication we needed, as Bishop broke from the protecting barrier and rushed to air our paladin, who was all but swallowed up amongst the swarming bones and phantoms. Carrin was practically dancing in front of Cassandra, who was the target of many skeletal archers, firing their decaying arrows at her, in an effort to dispel her purifying aura. But Carrin would not allow that, her twin daggers out, slicing any projectiles right out of the air, as easily as one catches raindrops on their tongue.

After a few more frenzied moments, their numbers began to thin, and we pressed in on the changing tide, turning the attackers into the defenders, they now trying to hold _us_ back. Plentiful though they were, they could not stop us, and they soon lay broken at our feet. This time however, we had not escaped injury.

Both Bishop and I had suffered many small slash wounds due to the groping sword points. Carrin had an arrow imbedded in her right arm, and another in her thigh, and Sir Victor looked unharmed, though he slumped and his armor quaked, his usual sign of injury. Cassandra tended to us, while Sol stood guard, hands poised to fire more explosive magic at any who dared show themselves.

Her healing powers extraordinary, Cassandra invoked her own healing magic and we were soon refreshed and treated, ready to proceed. Searching the small passageways yielding nothing noteworthy, more caskets guarded by weak shadows and skeletons. However, the opening directly across from the way we came in held a true problem. Standing directly in our path was a new batch of warrior undead.

These were not nearly as weak and dismissive as the horde faced a few moments ago unfortunately; these were heavily armored, daunting and fierce, no doubt elite guards for important duties. Eight of these monstrous constructs advanced, raising their great swords, their grinning skulls made them seem eager to rend flesh from bone. Behind them was yet another skeletal mage, his digits of bone already waving in patterns, ready to summon his defiling wrath upon us. And to top things off, four archers were lining the entrance, standing close to large circular columns, their bows less decrepit than the others, their arrows flying true.

We braced for their no doubt merciless assault, but were surprised when not just Sir Victor but Lady Cassandra stepped to the forefront. Her face had a sign of unwavering determination on her fair features, and with a wave of her hands, she called out in a vibrant and commanding voice, "Tortured souls, depart from this world and find your peace in the afterlife!" And suddenly all around us there was a brilliance, so great, so blinding that my eyes burned until I shielded my vision, and even then I could still feel it searing upon them. Behind, my companions did the same.

The undead however, liked it even less, their shrieks of agony and suffering all but split my ears asunder, the pain no doubt a hundred fold for they. And amidst the multitude of cries, there was a loud smacking bang, followed by an echoing crack of stone, and a thundering sound of something large collapsing. All around, I could feel the floor quiver and was blasted in the face by a stinging cloud of dust

Like the flame on a candle in a strong breeze, the dazzling illumination winked out, leaving us mired in the gloom once more. It was then that I saw one of the giant pillars lining the room lying on its side, several twitching skeleton corpses caught beneath it. Our paladin stood next to it, his hammer still imbedded in its base, the rock having shattered under his awesome blow.

Cassandra had drawn out that incredible light to blind and drive the skeletons away, while Sir Victor, virtuous and true as he was, was unaffected by the glorious spell, and using his god-like power and his righteous hammer had knocked a stone column from its solid foundation, driving it down upon our attackers, and ruining their assault. The rest were left defenseless and fell to our counterattack in no time.

"Now _that's_ how you do it," Bishop was grinning and nudging a skeleton's head stuck under the collapsed stone, "Why can't we do something like this every time?"

"Probably because there isn't always a roof to cave in," Sol answered him, looking at the devastation with a pleasing eye, "Unless we'd care to crush ourselves along with them…"

Across the chamber was a single way out, and just outside this room at the far end was once more the mosaic of tiles depicting a large black animal paw. Pushing the rotting double doors open, we looked inside, and finally found the end of the extensive tomb.

It was another large chamber, lit up with more of those large pots of everlasting blue flames, and two dominating pools of the radiant yet revolting sludge, its chilling glow bathing the dull stones a near pulsating color. At the far end was a series of steps which led up to a single lone coffin, a blood red tapestry decorated with a black pawprint dangling over it. And we could see that there was some_one_ standing next to that coffin. Someone who was translucent, fading in and out like a phantom.

The apparition was massive, as tall and broad as Sir Victor himself, though it was cloaked in shadow as it strode about the dais, soundless. It looked to be clad in midnight black armor, a matching helm, but no weapon to speak of.

At our cautious approach, it turned to confront us. I could hardly make out its face, so pallid and gray as it was, but I could see it was that of a man, middle-aged or older, grizzled and hardened with scars as well as fraught with wrinkled lines of worry and torment. Eyes like glimmering onyxes shone out from the wavering face, following us as we advanced. A fearsome spirit indeed. But it was fortunate that unlike everything else we had encountered in this massive tomb, it did not seem hostile. In fact, it looked curious.

_"At last,"_ its sonorous echoing voice resonated throughout the chamber, _"The mighty adventurer stands before me."_ It stepped off the dais, slowly approaching. And my word, he was _large_ indeed. _"To what do I owe this…honor?"_

Since he had no weapon, and had not attacked, I was resolute to doing things as diplomatically as possible. It is a fact that I had learned in my dealings with undead that if they do not immediately strike at ones approach, it usually means they are the sentient sort, retaining traces of the being they once were enough to be able to converse and speak of its restless nature.

"I am Dominic Hugos, of the Six Pale Hands," I introduced, bowing courteously before this phantom, "But I would know who you are spirit." The being dipped its head in a less than dignified bow in return.

_"In life, I was known as Kresselack, the Black Wolf. In death…I am nothing…a mere shade, cursed to haunt these halls for eternity."_

"Cursed you say? For what reason?"

_"Yes…cursed. And why? That is a long tale…Would you hear of it adventurer?"_ A rare chance to meet such a spirit, willing to speak of his past events. And what with the tribulations we had endured, it could provide us some insight.

"Aye, I will listen."

And so he spoke, recounting of his days of living, where he was an ambitious conqueror, enslaving all of the northlands under his rule and establishing a grand kingdom of blood. But over time, he saw how pointless it was, his atrocities earning him a place in Hell once he died, having an infinite amount of torment lined up. _"A kingdom,"_ he said with wry amusement, _"Lasts a lifetime...Death lasts an eternity."_

Therefore, he decided to forsake what remained of his life, and pursue a fruitful afterlife. He squandered his kingdom's resources in building his magnificent tomb, and upon its completion had the workers who built it slain and buried in the smaller crypt outside in the Vale. Following, he killed himself; his plan was to join his god's side, Myrkul, in the land of the dead. Instead, he was bound to the burial place until the end of time, never to depart from our world or even have a peaceful afterlife.

"Sounds like you got what you deserved," Carrin curtly told him, not looking at all sorry for the hulking shadow. Kresselack glanced at her, only to huff a silent airless sigh, his face seeming even more faded then when he began to tell his tale.

_"I have had a long time to reflect on my life and my deeds…and…I can see the truth in your words. Perhaps my fate is earned, and justice is served…"_ He trailed off and merely stared vacantly, his gaze passing us as if we were there no longer, out the hallway we had come through. I felt it time to get to business.

"Well," I resumed speaking, "I am not here to judge ones past faults, but you see, the reason we've come is…well, we were sent here on a mission from Kuldahar, a nearby hamlet, as they have been recently beset by evil forces. I am wondering…could this be because of you and your guardians?" Kresselack thought on this, and began to make a murmuring sound, and it took me a moment to see the shade was laughing. It wasn't what I'd call a lively laugh though.

_"If you are searching for evil, then you need look no further. Evil stands here before you now. But neither myself nor my minions is the evil you seek, the one that you have entered my tomb in searching for…no, that evil lies elsewhere."_

"Why should be believe that?" Sol asked pointedly, raising a skeptical eyebrow, "Taking the word of a dead man, who had little honor in life? Unwise that is. And furthermore, after hearing of what you accomplished with your life, I do not think it would be a stretch for you to lie to us now." Finally, there was a trace of emotion beside empty sorrow on Kresselack's faded features, this one a twinge of irritation and a few smoldering sparks of anger. I could almost feel Sir Victor behind us tensing.

_"I care not whether you trust my word adventurer,"_ he spat at us crossly, _"I have done reprehensible things when I was alive, but broken and shattered as I am, I'll be damned to let some interloper stand before me after slaughtering my servants and call me a liar. I have no cares to the world outside of this Vale, lest of all your precious Kuldahar. You have had your small victory here, so now go…Seek your villain elsewhere…"_

"He speaks true," Cassandra laid a hand on Sir Victor's plated arm, no doubt expecting him to stride forward to end the befouled spirit's existence, "There is a squalid presence here, but it has not spread beyond the rim of the canyon. Kuldahar's problems do not lie here." To hear the words coming from Cassandra was all we needed to hear.

"Great," Bishop growled, putting his swords up, "All that backbreaking labor for nothing. We swam through an ocean of undead only to find we've come this far to get the wrong badguy."

"At least there was no lich," Carrin pointed out, not surprisingly sounding relieved.

"And I suppose that our question here is answered," I tried to be jolly, "But that does leave the vexing conundrum as to where the source of this sinister evil originates from…"

_"An interesting problem, isn't it_?" Kresselack was musing, but his musing was directed my way, a slight smile on his face.

"You speak as if you know something." Kresselack shrugged his phantom shoulders.

_"Perhaps I do…"_

"If so," Sol pressed, "then speak to us spirit. What can you tell us?" Kresselack looked at all of us, his dark eyes scanning our faces.

_"I can tell you of what I know…However, I will require a boon of you first."_

"A boon?" Carrin snorted, "Like we'd help you…And what could _you_ want being stuck in here?" He ignored her scorn, instead facing me.

_"Here in the cold north, there are those who follow the Ice Goddess, Auril, who commands her somewhat fanatical followers to seek out any places of warmth, fire, or shelter from the frost and destroy it. As you can see,"_ the spirit gestured with a hand about the chamber, _"My tomb is an abomination in the eyes of Auril_." I followed his wave, looking at the cold stone, the chilling blue fires, and the foul unsettling air the hung about us. I wouldn't have exactly called his tomb a place of warmth or cheer, but I understood.

"Yes, you speak the truth in this. So…what does that have to do with it?"

_"Ah, what indeed? Recently a priestess of Auril has stood at the threshold of my tomb, gazing within. She attempted to enter, so that she might extinguish all the warmth and light in this place, but my guardians repelled her. But now that all of my guardians lie broken at your feet, there is nothing to keep her from coming back and fulfilling her misguided duties."_ He paused, and his face, already haggard seemed to grow even more worn and tired._ "I do not wish to spend the remainder of eternity in an icy dark hell. I ask that you find this Aurilite and slay her. If you do as I ask, I shall answer your question."_

"We aren't assassins ghost," Bishop grunted, "And it's not really our problem if you spend eternity or longer in a dank pit of your own creation." Kresselack shrugged once more and turned away, retreating back up to his sarcophagus.

_"If you should change your mind, you will not have far to look. I can already feel her presence somewhere in the Vale now. But I have given you my task. You must find and slay this Aurilite. Until then, I have nothing more to say."_


	12. Barmaid Gone Bad

**Chapter 12:** Barmaid Gone Bad

"You're _really_ going to do it?" Carrin asked, surprised and sounding a bit irritated, "Why don't we just leave? We've got everything we wanted to know. The "malevolent forces" we're looking for isn't here, so let's just get out of here and report back to Arundel about what we found." We were outside once again, having tramped back to the surface, following the trail of destruction left in our wake. And when I informed everyone that we would seek out this Aurilite, they began to protest.

"All we discovered is that the evil isn't _here_," I reminded her, "We still have no clue as to what the real source of Kuldahar's trouble is. Kresselack said he could assist us with what he knows. If we help him and learn what we need to know now, then we save time instead of having us running all over Icewind Dale looking for answers."

"But we aren't killers you know," Bishop reminded me, "Unless you've changed your worker's ethics while I wasn't looking."

"I never said anything about killing anyone," I answered cheerfully, "Kresselack was the one who said slay, but I'll not simply do it because he said. Personally I prefer to talk things out; though I do also have another reason to search for her besides Kresselack's request. And surely we could persuade this priestess to leave his tomb alone, and show the spirit within a little compassion."

"It will be more difficult than you believe," Cassandra was ahead of us. For some reason her disposition had hardened up slightly, looking far more serious than her usual self, "The followers of Auril are close-minded and fervent. They remove any places of comfort from the cold, harshly stating that if one cannot survive in the frozen chill as they were meant to, then they never deserved life. As a result they have allowed many people to suffer and perish under their injudicious doctrine. And you should truly understand their extent of _compassion_ towards such things," she pointed back to the tomb entrance somewhere behind us, lost in the darkness and snow, "That crypt is filled with chilling fire and the barest of illumination, yet they seek to purge it of even that. Imagine if it were something that brings far more life-giving warmth and shelter…"

"I see," Sol was piecing it together, "Then surely Kuldahar counts as such a place. And in such close proximity to this Vale, I doubt very much that it has escaped notice. Which means that Kuldahar might be the next target."

"Precisely," I concluded, "The same logic I was thinking. Kresselack may be no threat to Kuldahar as he says, but this Auril cleric may be a different matter. I felt it wise to find her and discover all the facts. If she means Kuldahar harm, as she does with Kresselack's tomb, then she must be stopped. And Kresselack promised us an answer to who is behind the evil acts amongst the mountains, so by helping him, we help ourselves."

"But even if we get the information," Carrin went on with her protest, "why _help_ that monster? After everything you heard that he did? From his own mouth? Let her cut off his light, then we can deal with her."

"I'll not deny that he wasn't a very benevolent man in life," I answered honestly, looking at her sternly, "But he is already chained to this place, never to leave these halls for the remainder of time. That is a cruel punishment for any. To spend that time locked away in unyielding darkness, devoid of warmth or any sort of comfort is a vindictiveness that I would not inflict upon anyone, no matter how dishonorable they were in life. And you heard what he said; he can comprehend as to why he was cursed. He has had much time to think on what he had done."

"And more time to come" Sol added.

It would have been a tribulation indeed if we had to comb over the entire Vale once again, seeking this priestess out, but thankfully, Bishop was a skilled hunter in his previous occupation, and knew quite a few things about tracking. He discovered bootprints that were not from us, and obviously not from undead, freshly imprinted in the gray snow and we followed them. We went back the way we had come, passing two of the smaller tombs and down a path we had missed the first time around, as it was winding down into the jaws of the canyon, hidden by tall pillars of rock. At the bottom of this hidden path, we saw the mouth of a decent sized cave. We paused outside of it.

"This is weird," Bishop murmured, crouching in the snow, "There's yeti footprints all over the place, leading to and from this cave. Probably their den…but it'd kind of a weird place to make camp for some holy chick..."

I couldn't imagine what sort of person would make their residence amongst angry wild yeti's, except someone who is on good terms with beasts of winter. A priestess of the Frostmaiden perhaps?

The interior of the cave gleamed with ice; the floors, walls and ceiling were all slippery with frost. In several corners were several piles of broken dead wood, no doubt the bedding for the occupants of the cave. However, it was clear that not only the wooly beasts of the Vale made their residence in this place.

For up on a small incline was a shoddily constructed pavilion, made of wood and a stretch of hide covering the top, several crates and supplies by the looks were beneath it. And kneeling in the ice and snow in front of the crude wooden shelter was a woman, garbed in cleric's clothes of a shimmering indigo. Her hair, a glossy silverish black was down, flowing around her shoulders, as she knelt with her hands clasped and eyes shut. Our presence must have been felt or heard, as no sooner had we spotted her, she spoke.

"Interlopes," she called, lifting her head, "This cave is my private retreat. I would ask you to leave, and respect my desire for solitude."

"My apologizes for the intrusion madam," said I, offering a flowing bow of regret, "But we are combing this Vale to find a priestess, under the faith of Auril the Ice Goddess. Might you be she?"

"I know of the Frostmaiden," the woman replied, though speaking her words slowly, "There are several that worship her in the cold north, though more out of fear and obligation rather than loyalty and love. I do know that their members are secretive and do not speak openly of their faith to others. Why is it you are seeking such a person?"

"I must speak to her on a matter of importance…" I began.

"W-wait a second," Bishop spluttered from behind, prompting me to glance back, seeing his dark eyes bulging as he pointed up at the woman, "I _recognize_ you! You're Lysan! The woman in the bar from Kuldahar! The one who slapped the hell out of me!" This prompted us to look back and forth between the alleged slapper and the slapped.

"You two have met?" Carrin asked, as she glanced between the two of them, then giving Bishop an elbow in the ribs, grinning, "You already made a new girlfriend B?"

"I'm afraid he was not quite my type," Lysan answered Carrin's question curtly.

"A barmaid in this unnatural place?" Cassandra seemed to muse sarcastically, "Why would you be here unless you are more than you appear to be? We know you are the priestess of Auril, so kindly drop the charade." Lysan gave us a frosted smirk, before rising from her makeshift alter.

"I suppose I should, as there seems to be no sense hiding it any longer. Very well, you have found your priestess; now tell me, what is it you want?" I had assumed from the start that this woman was whom we were searching for, but I must say I was quite surprised that she was someone who had been in Kuldahar. Regardless, I went on.

"We are here on behalf of the spirit of tomb to the east of here. He is concerned about your intensions towards his resting place."

"Spirit? I know nothing of any real occupant, living or dead of the tomb you speak of. But I know of it yes. And my intension is to extinguish all light and warmth within it, to make it more to the tastes of my mistress. As it currently stands, it is nothing more than an abomination in her eyes that must be cleansed and sanctified."

"Sanctified…" Cassandra murmured, though by looking at her she had a twinge of anger across her fair countenance.

"But there _is_ an apparition within the tomb," I explained, "Who doesn't wish to spend an eternity trapped in a dark and lightless cave."

"Bah," Lysan snorted, "What do I care for some lifeless specter? He is dead, isn't he? Why should the dead care about light or dark, warmth or cold? It is none of his concern."

"I beg to differ on that my dear," Sol interjected, "As it is his tomb, it actually _is_ his business. And though dead he may be, he still has sentience, and I have seen such a thing enough times to know that it means he still retains emotions and feelings, the same as anyone who is living. Disregarding his wishes so callously isn't a particularly kindly act."

"Kindness and showing mercy is none of my concern. I have been skulking about this shadowy place for months now, working to remove the undead from the surrounding crypts to perform my duties, and I shall not give up my efforts now because of some tormented ghost's mournful wailing or an officious group of would-be saviors."

"I'd watch that mouth little missy," Bishop warned, "Lest you're the one getting smacked…"

"Months?" I pressed, "What do you mean? What have you been doing?" Lysan's smile widened as she crossed her arms, taking a few steps through the crunching snow.

"I was visited by my mistress in a vivid dream who guided me to this place. She spoke of the defilement that was here and showed me the way. However, I found these forsaken tombs infested by stubborn protectors that I was unable to defeat, thus I was forced to find another way past. So using the almighty power of my Goddess Auril, I placed a curse upon the entire Vale, bidding the dead to rise up. Then I placed myself among the people of Kuldahar, and as a barmaid began spreading fear-provoking rumors of the walking dead and such. I reasoned that sooner or later some adventurous heroic type would be along to deal with the possible danger. It turned out to have been your little band."

"You? You're the one who raised the dead?"

"You sound surprised," she smirked at us, "In the deepest coldest places on the world, the power of Auril is supreme, and nothing can stand against her will." Cassandra joined me at the forefront, her face even more serious than before.

"I see now. I had sensed something wrong in this place even before I arrived. A silent aching desperation in these awakened dead. You forced them from their eternal peace for your own twisted sense of duty in a manipulative scheme." Our own priestess turned to face Lysan eye to eye, a sister cleric, "And what of your position towards Kuldahar? Do you hold the same ideology with them?"

"You mean that blasphemous haven towards my goddess? You'd be foolish to think I wouldn't. That tree is an atrocity in her eyes, and once I finish in this place, I shall return to my work of ridding the Dale of such a blemish upon the frozen tundra once and for all."

"But there are people who live there!" Carrin protested, "And the warmth of the tree keeps them safe from harm. You'd really kill the Great Oak and condemn all those people to death simply because you're crazed ideals commands it?"

"Watch your tongue, young harlot," Lysan snapped, "That tree is unnatural and must be destroyed, and if the cowering people beneath its roots cannot adapt to the world as it should be, then they shall be reduced to dust in the snow. And the essential principles of Auril's faith are far too complex and intricate for common thugs to fathom. Speak not of what you don't understand little fool."

"You shall speak to her with respect," Cassandra commanded with a vibrant amount of hostile vigor, adopting a persona I had never seen before, her brilliant eyes blazing with a righteous fire, her expression resolute and firm as she faced down the rival priestess. "This girl has a heart that is compassionate and full of courage, unlike yours, covered in bitter sorrow and cold. And if you would not hear her words, then you _will_ hear mine, a cleric and servant of the gods. Follower of Auril, you have committed great sins in your scheming devices, endangering the innocent lives of Kuldahar, and that of my closest of friends in our pursuing this quest. Leave this place and seek no further harm in Kuldahar or anywhere, lest justice comes crashing down about your ears!"

"You presume to judge me?" Lysan spat, hissing like an enraged housecat, "Fool, as I said before, I'll not let the ignorant stand in my way!" And with a raised hand, we were beset by howls.

We had been so preoccupied in the heated protests that we had been unaware that numerous yeti's had entered the cave, and upon Lysan lifting her hand, they made their presence known with a choir of roars, rushing us all in a stomping frenzy. We reacted instantly, rolling out of the way of their rush, blades lifting to fight back. My thin sword dove deep into their hide, piercing fur and skin, leaving a bellowing monster behind. I fought hard and fast, knowing full well that these beasts were nothing more than a diversion, our real enemy was Lysan, with her power to cast magic, personifying her role as an Auril cleric. And before the yeti's had fallen, we felt the cold sting of her power.

A wailing blast of wind tore through the cave, a magical storm of iced air that penetrated all garments and dove deep into my bones and muscles, causing my blood to chill. As a result I felt my footwork falter, my legs numbing. I could see Bishop slowing down as well, even Carrin's nimble steps shortening. Sir Victor fought against it, keeping the joints of his armor functioning by lunging forward. Sol's face, contorted and twisted was enough of a sign to show his concentration was broken, unable to retaliate with his own brand of destructive magic.

Cassandra however stood firm, not wavering not hesitating. She clutched her sacred holy symbol, a silver medallion that hung across her breast, and with a rapid prayer, she spoke a single word, so deafening and so acute that I could not hear it clearly. Perhaps my impure ears were not meant to here it, I don't know. All I do know is that at once I felt the ill-effects of the conjured ice of Lysan melting away, as a snowflake disintegrates before the might of the sun. Even further, I felt a pressure of air surge around me, washing over my entire body for a split second, and I could feel the cave around us tremble at the shock.

And suddenly, there was a splintering crack, as the ice walls and ceiling were trembling and shattering due to the awesome force of Lady Cassandra's spell. And even as Lysan was invoking more magic, a flooding rush of rock and frost came down on top of her. She did manage to look around, seeing death bearing down upon her and emitted a single piercing shriek, before the explosion of snow and icicle fragments swirled around us like a blizzard, obscuring all sight, the thundering crash of the cave-in obscuring all other sounds. In the silent moments that followed, we rose, the yeti's having retreated in terror, and gazed in astonishment.

A massive section of the wall and ceiling now lay across the floor, twisted and heaped in a sloping pile. And from under this mound, there was an unmistakable tendril of crimson that came trickling out from beneath, pooling, and turning the powder white a stained scarlet.

"The priestess of the Frostmaiden," Sol cogitated grimly, biting his lip, "Crushed to death by an avalanche of ice and snow. A fitting end for someone so cold and filled with malice."

"In any event," said I, "Kuldahar is in no more danger from this particular threat. But our job is not yet completed; the true source of darkness is still out there. Let us return to the tomb and speak to Kresselack, so we may gain our enemy's name and face."


	13. The Heartstone Gem

**Chapter 13:** The Heartstone Gem

The journey back through the soundless crypt was more than slightly unnerving, surrounded by the bones of the dead, having fallen to our hands, no movement and sound save our own tramping feet. But without any hindrances, we reached Kresselack's final chamber with all haste, once more approaching the shadowy phantom. He watched as we entered, striding down the alter himself and advanced towards us once again.

_"You have returned,"_ Kresselack spoke cautiously, one of his almost invisible eyebrows lifting, _"I take it then that the Aurillite is slain?"_

"Yes," I sighed regretfully, "she is no more. I truly wished I could have talked reason to her, but she threatened the safety of Kuldahar as well as your tomb. And our duty is to protect the good people of Kuldahar, from whatever manner of threat may terrorize it. Be it priestess of Ice or something else." Kresselack didn't seem to hear more then my initial yes, as he closed his weary eyes, looking to concentrate before opening them, having a telltale sheen of pleasure on his visage.

_"Yes,"_ he concurred, _"You speak the truth. You have my thanks adventurer, you have done very well. As a reward for your efforts, you may take whatever valuables you find in my sarcophagus."_ At this, I actually expected Carrin to step out and gladly take him up on the offer, but to my surprise, she didn't so much as twitch. From her expression, she had feelings of deep resentment and loathing towards Kresselack, apparent at her passionate arguments to not assist him, and I suppose even she wanted nothing to do with possible items and treasure that were associated with him.

"The offer is appreciated," I declined lightly, "But we are heroes, not grave-robbers. Though instead of that, perhaps you could fulfill your end of our agreement? You did agree to inform us of what it is that is causing distress among the mountains?" Kresselack thought on this, rubbing his haggard jawline.

_"Yes…I suppose I did,"_ he contemplated further before giving a dismissing shrug, _"The truth is…I don't know who or what is responsible for the mischief. All I do know is it has nothing to do with either I or any of my followers in the Vale. If it were otherwise, I would have sensed it."_

_"What?!"_ Carrin exploded, "We went out and made sure you're little home here was kept safe, and you promised to tell us who was causing the damage around here! You'd better deliver what you owe us buddy!"

_"Promised? I don't recall promising to tell you anything. I told you I would say what I know. And before you dismiss what I have said as useless, you had best reconsider. For when fighting an unknown foe, it is equally important to know where your enemy is not, in addition to know where he is."_

"There is a certain truth in that I suppose," Sol admitted disdainfully, "But useful though it may be, it's far more beneficial to just know where the enemy is directly, instead of undertaking a time consuming process of elimination to find where he isn't."

_"Be that as it may," _the spirit replied coldly, _"I have given you the only answer I have. Take it and begone."_

"If that is all you can tell us," I strove to remain cheerful, "Then that is that. We thank you once again Kresselack. Farewell." And ignoring the angered stares of Carrin and Bishop, I stepped off the dais. As we were exiting, I noticed that only four of my companions were behind me. Looking back, I saw Lady Cassandra staring up into the haunted black eyes of the enormous phantom.

"Is there no way to relieve you of your curse," she asked softly, no doubt wishing to assist this spirit to find peace, despite his past misdeeds, "To allow you to rest easy?" Kresselack gave her a hollow smile, shaking his great head.

_"Your kindness is appreciated beautiful one, but wasted. I am bound to this tomb by the gods. There is little a mortal can do to break my chains."_

"Like we'd want to anyway," Carrin huffed before pushing past me and exiting the room. Cassandra stood a moment longer, before bowing her head in a silent prayer. Then, she climbed down the steps, and joined us as we exited. We trekked back to the surface, out in the snow once again.

"That conniving bastard," Carrin was grumbling, "After all that, he tricked us! Using us for his dirty work and then welching! Why didn't we just get Vic to smash him like he always does?"

"I doubt it would have truly done much good," Sol contemplated, "A being like that is hardly tangible, and even Sir Victor's hammer might have proved ineffective. And his mood and disposition certainly supported the possibility that he didn't care one way or the other what we might do to him."

"Well, we could have at least tried…"  
"It's alright," I consoled her, "We now know that the source of the Kuldahar's troubles are not in the Vale of Shadows. And we prevented further harm to Kuldahar in doing so, so I believe we've done as much here as we could, and we should feel a sense of accomplishment."

"Yeah," Bishop groaned, rubbing his dark hair, "And I'm gonna have to go by the Root Cellar when we get back and tell old man Whitcomb that his favorite busty barmaid was really a crazed princess of Ice bent on the death of anything warm. That'll be a sight I'm sure."

We traversed the slippery ground, hopefully for the last time, but as we reached the dipped path, the one that would lead us back out of the Vale of Shadows, we were stopped once more. A lone shadow hovered just at the threshold, though it didn't attack. In fact, it seemed to have been waiting. As it sensed our approach, it turned its translucent head our way, bowing it.

"We are free," it cried out, trace amounts of joy in its undead croaking, "Thank you fleshling, you have saved us!"

"Free? What do you speak of spirit?"

"It was a calling, lifting us from our graves, compelling us to rise. Now that the corruptor lies dead, we can sleep easy once more!"

"We were pleased to be of assistance."

"May a peaceful afterlife await you once again," Cassandra prayed, as the apparition faded away.

"Alright that's enough," Carrin cried out, "This place is really starting to creep me out. Let's go already!" No one objected, and we climbed back into the full light of the sun, standing atop the newest fallen snow outside of the foreboding canyon.

The trip back was quick, as we left the dim cold of the Vale, and as we grew closer to Kuldahar, the welcoming warmth, the very same life-giving heat that Lysan had been so bent on destroying, invigorated us. I could feel the ache in my muscles from all the exhausting work we preformed dull, as urging me to reach our place of refuge and granting me an extra boost in strength to finish the trek. Even before we crested the final hill, I could see the vibrant green of the upper most branches of the Great Oak, as if hovering just beyond the horizon, awaiting our return with hope.

It was certainly wonderful to be back in such a welcoming place, after such a hard days work. But tired and sore though we were, I felt it important to inform Arundel on the results of our expedition before we immerse ourselves in soothing comforts.

The old druid was sitting in a plain arm chair stationed next to a sparse bookshelf in his equally sparingly furnished living room. A book rested on his lap, but he didn't look to be greatly absorbed in its contents, as he was sitting and staring off, vacantly peering at nothing save the wall across from him. As we tramped inside, tracking mud and melting snow across the threadbare welcome rug, the glaze over his eyes faded as he rose, tossing the book aside and came to greet us.

"Ah, you return! How faired your search? Did you discover anything in the Vale of Shadows?"

"Indeed," I informed him, "A massive tomb built in the side of the chasm, which housed a malevolent spirit, as well as his minions of the living dead. Though I regret to say that neither the phantom nor his followers were connected to Kuldahar's problems. Of this I am certain. The evil we seek is elsewhere."

"I see…" the hope I had seen in Arundel's eyes died away at once, and that cloak of worry was once more thrown over his shoulders, "That is unfortunate. Though I must say I am not entirely surprised. I seemed to sense that whatever it is we are looking for has concealed itself from discovery somehow, taking great care to keep away from prying eyes. And I fear that if we cannot find it soon, then it may be too late."

"Brilliant attitude," Bishop took a seat at the wooden table, tossing his legs across another chair, "Instead of telling us what might happen if we don't find it, try thinking of something we can do that will help us find it." Arundel fell quiet, once more gaining that contemplative lost in thought expression. Then a look of dawning appeared, like the rising sun.

"Actually," he spoke slowly, "There may indeed be a way to discover that what doesn't wish to be found. Of course, to do this, I will need to call upon your assistance once again."

"We are happy to help," I told him, "Name what you need, and we shall do the most we are able to see it done."

"I am truly grateful. Very well, this is what must be done…I need to find an ancient artifact, a powerful druidic scrying stone known as the Heartstone Gem. It is a powerful tool of divination that can find the source of this malevolence."

"A simple task," Sol contemplated, "Thought finding a single magical artifact in these mountains will be quite the challenge I'm sure. Do you have any clue as to its current whereabouts?"

"There was a time when the Heartstone Gem could be found right here in Kuldahar, in a shrine at the base of the Great Oak. The druids here used it to observe the workings of men, as well as divining possible threats to the delicate balance. However, an initiate from the shrine stole the gem and fled Kuldahar. He had grown impatient at the slow but humble teachings of the current Arch-Druid, and wished for his own strength and supremacy."

"Ah another ambitious soul that thirsts for power," Sol said with a hint of nostalgia, "A far too common scenario these days…"

"He vanished into the mountain with the Heartstone Gem and was never seen again. A few years later, rumors of a strange cult that was established deep within the Dale began to emerge. I believe the previous Arch Druid felt there was some sort of connection between the two, although he had no one to send to investigate. I would ask you six to find this religious enclave and search it. It is possible that the Heartstone Gem may still be located there."

"Sort of iffy, isn't it?" Bishop asked, "We're following a coincidence just like that?"

"Many duties and tasks we perform are based on nothing but rumor and hearsay," Cassandra reminded him, giving him a warm smile to ease his irritability, "Surely you've learned that much." Bishop humphed but didn't argue. "We shall do as you ask, Arundel," she assured him, "and recover the Heartstone Gem if it is found there, and return it to its rightful place, here in Kuldahar."

"I thank you all. I wish I could do more to assist you, but I'm afraid that all I can do is point you in the right direction. The cult is said to be located in a temple, far to the east of Kuldahar, in a deep ravine. I shall mark the location on your map."

"Not more canyons," Carrin bawled, "This is not fair, I'm _so_ sick of big holes in the ground! Why can't we get to go to forests or lakes or something nice like that…?"


	14. Speculation

**Chapter 14:** Speculation

Another night spent in Kuldahar was another night full of relaxation and peace. Bishop went by the tavern, telling a stupefied barkeep about his serving girl's side hobby. As was his nature though, when he returned he was carrying several items of Lysan's, she having left them behind. No doubt he had delivered some hokey line to bewildered old Whitcomb about how there may be clues or some such thing about the evil. Between Bishop and Carrin's questionable activities, it's a wonder that we didn't have half of Faerun in our pockets.

Everyone else returned to the inn, or went about their own personal revelries, I am unsure. As for myself, I remained at Arundel's home, speaking to the old druid in more depth. We covered many subjects, not all of which pertained to the current crisis, the fellow having a keen wit and seemingly endless topics and matters to discuss. And being a keen mind looking for insight upon the world, he and I got along swimmingly.

When morning arose we packed up our gear, checking over our route once again.

"This shall be quite a march," Sol was examining our map, after Arundel had added the known location to this forgotten temple, "A day's walk easily. And the terrain ahead looks to be rockier that what we've faced thus far. We are certainly getting our exercise in these mountains hmm?"

"Yeah, not to mention frostbitten and water-logged too," Bishop groaned, rubbing his numb feet back to life. And off we went, heading to the east once again.

Instead of taking the low roads however, which would have us once again dip into the darkness of the Vale of Shadows, we took the upper paths, staying high up on the rim of the chasms and peaks, bypassing the place. Ahead, there were towering rocky mountains, stretching upward into the sky and vanishing behind low stormy clouds, promising even more arctic snow and ice.

It was indeed an attenuated trek, with countless hours of hard walking, enduring the forces of nature and worse still…the unnerving quiet. As I am certain I have said it before, unlike many of my other friends, I am not one for long periods of silence and speculation. It's not as though I'm not deep enough of an individual, to mire myself in speculative thinking; I am just a talker. Despite that, I dislike being the one who breaks the silence, lest I appear to be an incessant chatterbox and I feel it gives me a fidgety attitude like that of a five year old.

So I often must smile and swallow my talkative tongue, enduing the harsh silence that often encompasses the long journeys of adventurers.

"Malevolent forces," Sol disrupted the silence. He was marching along, but his eyes were looking upward at the snowy peaks before us, lost in thought.

"What's that?" I slowed my stride to join him, thankful that someone opened their mouth, letting it not be me, "Something on your mind old friend?"

"Hmm? Oh no, I've just been contemplating this whole ordeal since we returned from the Vale. Wondering to myself what could all of this mean precisely…"

"The evil we seek?"

"If you wish to call it that yes. Evil is a relative term you know," Sol lectured me, "It can have a near limitless form and tremendous power. And that may very well be what we are marching towards at this very moment."

"I doubt it," Bishop grunted, trudging along, "We're just looking for some greedy little weasel who got all testy with his job and swiped the thing in an urge of sticky-fingers."

"No, not exactly," Cassandra corrected, "As Arundel said, the thief stole the Heartstone Gem during the previous Arch-Druid's time. It is unlikely that the thief still lives himself, we are merely seeking the results of his theft. The establishment of a sect far from Kuldahar, of some religious significance. I am actually quite intrigued to see this place. Hopefully it is not yet another church with fervent and tarnished ideals. The world already has enough malevolence in the ways of stagnant religion."

"Which brings me back to my main topic," Sol wormed his way back into the conversation, "One can never tell what and where evil may be, including what we face. For all we know, it is some new religious order, working to spread their ultraistic gospel across the arctic tundra. And think on _this_, what if the evil we seek isn't necessarily evil in our terms? What a startling conundrum _that_ would present don't you think?"

"I really think it's about time you get your head examined, you old goat," Carrin called from the front, "Whatever is out there is making monsters act crazy and kidnapping people. Probably eating them or something. What more of a clue do you want as to their intentions genius? A big magic sign?"

"Hardly, my dear girl. Another's intentions are difficult to divine, as it is an intricate proceeding to tell what another is _truly_ thinking, deep in their subconscious. Disreputable actions and manifested evil are two _very_ separate issues. There is committing heinous acts on purpose, and the violation of laws and order by mere mischance. Many societies have seen such in the past."

"Nonetheless," I argued, "there is only so much ignorance that someone can claim to avoid being blamed for baneful activities, feinting innocence on the matter. For instance, when someone kills another, they should know that such things are frowned upon by nearly all societies."

"Why do you guy's have to get into debating while were walking?" Bishop groaned, "But since everyone else is putting their opinion in, I might as well throw mine out too. As far as I'm concerned, the type of evil isn't really important. Let's just find it and kill it. And I got a question for you Oh All-Knowing One," rolling his eyes around towards our invoker, "how do you _know_ what we're facing isn't something less serious? Like…hungry orcs or barbarians that have had a bad day?"

"If only things were so simple," Cassandra said aloud, "as there is more hope in reasoning with them to avoid conflict. But beings such as them would never have left the scene so peaceful and with no visible damage. They would have undoubtedly set fire to Kuldahar, slaughtered everyone and plundered all resources and wealth."

"Yes," Sol agreed," Such blatant signs wouldn't truly point to a sinister evil, more to the blunderings of an idiot, reckless and brainless creatures or monsters that haven't the intelligence to realize the consequences of their actions. The implications around us are far different than that. Think on this…" and he began counting his fingers.

"Monster activity has spiked, though with no real apparent cause visible as to why. Manipulation of the natural weather itself, quite the impressive feat I'm sure you'll agree, and abductions of innocent villagers, with no traces. This is not the work of marauding orcs or oafish barbarians. No…this is something worse. I've learned that the most terrible of evil's is the secretive kind, manipulative and surreptitious. You all should consider yourself fortunate that you aren't familiar with such foes. They are ruthless and full of wickedness, as I have witnessed. In my times of extensive traveling and fame, I have more than likely encountered more diverse evil than the rest of you combined."

"Oh boy," Bishop groaned, "Here he goes again. Don't you ever get tired of lying though your teeth every time you open you trap?" Sol whirled, his hazel eyes narrowing and widening both at Bishop.

"Are you implying that I am exaggerating on my tales and accounts, you foppish goon?"

"You're kidding right? Hells, I've believed more demented twaddle from the lunatics and raving madmen we've come across that your drivel."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, truths and logic have a troublesome time piercing the hard skulls of the young. Though with all you have witnessed out in the world, I'm a bit baffled that you are so intransigent. Evil is everywhere my boy. Here, there, wherever people's feet land, it is something that shan't be far behind. And one day, when you have reached my level of seniority and progress into a bristling tree of wisdom, you will have eager young minds of your own listening…hanging upon your every word."

"Uhh, he's babbling again…"

"It is an interesting point though," Carrin chimed in. She was currently balancing on Sir Victor's great rounded shoulder plate, riding along with a view nearly fifteen spans over our heads. "All these bad things going on around here. I wonder if it's just bad luck or what?"

"Bad luck certainly wouldn't be out of the question I'll warrant," I answered, "I did a little reading during our periods of rest between adventures on the subject of the Dale itself, and it seems that ill-winds have blown this way more than once. All the tales of these mountains are wrought with hardship and danger, and hardly anything uplifting. Quite depressing really."

"Hrothgar said as much himself," Cassandra reminded us, "These mountains are hardly civilized. They are untamed and wild. And it was such that brought about his death I'm afraid."

"Indeed," I agreed, rubbing my chin, "And here is something that I have been thinking upon lately as well. Hrothgar was certainly no stranger to these mountains. I also spoke briefly with Arundel, who spoke of a few of Hrothgar's achievements. Seems he was a local hero beyond Easthaven. And he was coming to Kuldahar to offer assistance when the avalanche struck. This tells me that there is a calculating mind out there, determined to halt any meddling in its affairs. I still can't help but wonder what though…"

"In any event," Sol was winding up, enjoying the prospect of being the one with the last word, "Whatever it is out there that is causing these disturbances, we shall undoubtedly come face to face with it soon enough. Until then all we can do is tighten our resolve and continue to march ever onward. As a good friend of mine used to say…"

"Hey," Carrin yelled out, interrupting Sol's preaching. She was pointing, nearly hopping up and down on Sir Victor's shoulder, grinning widely, "I think I can see it! It's right over there!"


	15. Hallowed Ground

**Chapter 15:** Hallowed Ground

"Right over there," Bishop huffed sarcastically, as we arrived at the stone archway "That's not exactly what I would have said. That was another five and a half leagues of trudging through snow that's even more fickle than quicksand! How about I be the lookout from now on?"

"Quit whining," Carrin cheerfully instructed, "You've been getting out of shape lately B. A little gooey around the midsection. Besides, I feel fine still."

"Yeah?" he questioned, growling in light-hearted annoyance, rolling his eyes upward, "Well not all of us have the luxury of being able to hitch a ride on their own personal walking paladin!" jerking his thump to the immobile Sir Victor, who seemed impartial to Carrin still standing on his shoulder.

"Jealous?" she inquired with a childish grin, kicking a small clump of snow that had piled on Sir Victor's armor at Bishop.

"Put a sock in it twerp," he grunted, "And get your shrimpy butt down here and get scouting. I'd like to know what's inside that place before we go knocking on the door."

Actually, there was no door; the entryway to the shrine was a cave, a large opening on an outcropping of a rock face. But unlike any old ordinary cave, this one was adorned with statues of a hooded figure, something we had been seeing a lot of these days in the Dale it seemed. The snow leading to and away from the arch was well worn with prints, new and old in the snow, which meant there was someone inside, undoubtedly.

Carrin slid to the ground, dusting the light snow powder from her clothes and began to sneak. But before she could slink even five steps, the ground began to shake and tremble. From out of the entryway before us, a huge lumbering shadow fell across our group.

It looked at first glance to be a very large hunched man, ten feet in height with a somewhat monstrous girth and a long mane of glossy black hair. But my years of studying in higher society disagreed with that assessment, and the answer soon came. It was a giant, a verbeeg I believe, not the largest or fiercest of the giant-folk, but certainly among the slowest in the head. He was stampeding towards us, carrying no weapon and having a somewhat panicked look on his face, whilst he kept fearfully looking behind him. We tensed, wondering if he was hostile, but he didn't seem angry. Just afraid.

"Out of me way," he bawled, even before he skidded to a halt before us, jittering in his armor, "Red Toe wants out! No want to die!" I was taken aback for but a moment, but I hesitantly stepped forward, wary but curious.

"One moment my dear fellow," I spoke slowly, hoping he could understand Common as well as speak it…sort of.

"No wait! Red Toe is scared; want to get away from holy place fast!"

"Red Toe?" Bishop gave the brute an amused look, "Is that your name or a disease?

"Name," Red Toe answered back, "Me drop rock on toe before, it turn really big and red, hurts a lot. Other verbeeg laugh and call me Red Toe from then on."

"Clever," Sol scratched his chin with a smile, "And somewhat appropriate. Awfully droll…for giants anyways."

"What's got you so afraid, Red Toe?" I pressed.

"Me is running from holy place. No want to die like others!"

"Die? By what?" Red Toe shivered, perhaps recalling a frightful memory. He then pointed back towards the shrine entrance.

"Bad ones come into cave, start killing friend verbeeg, killing friend priests. Killed everyone. Red Toe no want die so laid on floor, pretend to be dead. Bad ones never knew. They pass Red Toe thinking he was dead. When they gone, me get up and see bodies of friends. Me scared they still around, so me leave now."

"Playing dead eh? Not the most honorable thing to do, I suppose," Sol contemplated, "But what of these bad ones Red Toe? What were they like?"

"No! Red Toe run now, no want get caught, end up like others! Me get away now!" And he went lumbering past us, rushing towards a large section of craggy rocks to the southeast. We watched him run, trading perplexed expressions, before turning our gazes at one to the silent archway that seemed to become more sinister all of a sudden.

"Something has really got him spooked," Bishop noted, "Pretty bad too. And call me crazy, but I'm really not fond of things that can make giants turn into a quaking piles of jelly. Why are we here again?"

"Buck up, my friend," I gave him a cheerful pat on the arm, "We've seen things that can even make dragons nervous. Nothing we can't handle I'm sure."

"Uh…I'm kinda with B on this one," Carrin hesitantly admitted, "It sounds pretty bad in there."

"Yes, it seems a dark wind has been blowing here…" Cassandra surmised, "Even sanctuaries and personal religious grounds are no longer safe. I fear that the same evil we seek may have visited this place."

"In that case," said I, pulling my silver rapier free and giving my cape a toss, "We'd best prepare ourselves for the worst in there. The answer we may have been seeking might be inside. No matter what threat lay inside, we will face it unwavering."

"Fine," Bishop followed my example by drawing his twin blades, twirling them feverishly, "I still say this ain't smart, but I _will_ say that I'd much rather be hacking up monsters than all of this walking we've been doing." So declaring, we readied ourselves, slowly advancing, waiting and watching for whatever tricks may lay in store for us. Passing through the entrance led us into a foyer, and into unpleasantness.

The tiles of the floor, which must have been lavish and artistic only a short time ago, were hardly visible due to the long streaks of blood swiped across the ground, like an overly hasty painter. Even more, there were black charred marks dotting all over, on the stone walls as well as the ground, and many of the tiles were shattered, broken and their fragments strewn about.

And even more gruesome were the corpses; men in tattered robes, their previous color now lost to the touch of fire and blood, as well as several more verbeeg, all heavily armed, butchered. There was only one figure who was actually standing, though slumping was probably more correct. He was amongst the other fallen, his face somewhat hidden under a hood, but what was visible was somewhat glazed over, disillusioned most likely. Though that expression faded instantly when we stepped inside, staring about at the slaughter before us. At once he began to point a wavering hand at us.

"Defilers?" he screamed at us, his tattered robes having visible stains of crimson running down his frail arms, "Have you come back again to slay those you had left alive? Murderers all!" I traded looks with my party, also checking to see if someone else had entered behind us. But no. I turned back to the enraged man, a monk or priest perhaps, trying not to get a sinking feeling due to his wild half-mad expression.

"Hello good sir," I called, bewildered to no end, "We…mean no harm, but what in the name of…"

"No harm?" he screeched, waving his arms about the piles of corpses, "A vile raillery for an equally vile person! Be you man or monster, I shall see you dead in the name of my comrades slain by your blood-soaked hands! Guards, to me!"

And at once, from deeper within the temple, down the two hallways that were on both sides of the entrance foyer, came the sounds of quaking footsteps and deep-throated roars, as moments later, four verbeeg and two more robed men came rushing to the side of their frantic comrade. No more questions did they ask, before the giants came crashing towards us, wielding great halberds, whilst the priests began to chant their spells.

"Great," Bishop groaned, as battle was unexpectedly thrust upon us once again, "Now we get to fight some giants."

Despite us wishing for a non-aggressive solution and perhaps some well deserved answers, we couldn't merely stand there and be destroyed. We sprang to action, our group scattering in a flash, darting in all directions.

Your standard verbeeg was large, larger and wider than Sir Victor, but lack any intelligence beyond that of simple thoughts and feelings. I suppose they had planned to run us over with their charge, as giants and other large overbearing creatures use their great size and weight to their advantage, but when we were not crushed under their giant feet, confusion set in on them. Attacking them from all sides in their confusion was the most expedient solution to deal with them, but not a one of us did. The giants were not the true threat after all, the priests with their spells were much more dangerous. As we soon saw.

From nowhere, long tangling vines slithering towards us from nowhere, coiling up around our boots and though we struggled, we were rooted to the spot from the waist down, ensnared by the magical foliage. A luck break however, as the spell apparently didn't differentiate friend from foe, the startled verbeeg were also grabbed up, the magic seemed to turn their moods from confusion to panic, as they struggled to free themselves.

Things could have gone worse had Carrin not took hold of her daggers, and hurled them at the priests. Both shots were spot on, on piercing the throat of one man, the other sinking into the others chest. And in an instant, the vines began to recede, vanishing as quickly as they had emerged. Seeing his two comrades die, the final man watched our advance, his face set with fury and a lapse of sanity. He yanked something, what looked like a glass jar from his robes, before he turned the tables and rushed at us, waving his brandished _weapon_ over his head.

"Die, you murdering fiends!" he shrieked before he hurled the glass vial at his feet. A moment later, a wave of fire came exploding from where he stood, flooding to meet us in its near molten embrace. We scattered yet again, spreading out to avoid whatever the spell he had sacrificed himself for. Fortunately, it looked to be more of a short range attack, the fires not spreading fire before vanishing. Sol had tripped over his flowing garb and some of his robes were singed, but otherwise we had avoided a nasty surprise. That left…

There was no fight after that. At the appearance of the magic vines and the great incineration of the priest, the verbeeg lost their nerves, dropping their halberds and rushing out the cave, much like Red Toe had done before them. That left us alone, victorious though not really feeling like it.

"Cripes," Bishop groaned when the melee ended, "I could have done without that. Insane bastards, I guess they were just itching for a fight."

"It was not maliciousness that made him attack us," Cassandra was knelt by the two other fallen men, "His senses left him in his grief, so distressed by the murders of his closest companions, he no longer could differentiate friend from foe. There is no dark presence about this place, save that left by the evil that swept through here. This was a holy place, defiled and destroyed." With a light caressing touch, she reached out and closed their eyes, covering their crazed savage expressions from the world.

"Places such as this are often targeted by the forces of darkness," Sol noted, gazing about, "No wonder they were struck."

"True," said I, "but I don't believe that this is some random attack out of spite or sheer cruelty."

"What do you mean Dom," Carrin inquired, upset by the combat that had been forced upon us, "Like Sol says, bad guy's strike at places all the time, to take riches and items, or just to cause suffering. They usually don't really need a reason."

"This I know, but the items and riches part is what I am thinking of. For instance, dose anyone remember _why_ we came here in the first place? What we are looking for…?" They were silent, as Carrin's face suddenly lit up, the illumination of understanding emerged.

"Oh gods," she breathed, "The Heartstone Gem."

"Exactly. It's possible that the Heartstone Gem that Arundel wished for us to find might have been here. In fact, it is looking that way what with this slaughter. As we might not have been the only ones after it. After all, Arundel had said that whatever we are facing has taken lengths to protect itself from being spied on. What better way to see through that shroud of protection than with that gem? Such an item would be quite dangerous to such scrupulous scheming."

"A valid point my friend," our wizard concurred, "A scying stone that can see through the mightiest of enchantments. And beyond merely keeping their dark activities concealed, think of the applications of such an artifact used in the proper or worse, the improper hands. Army's would know when and where to strike an enemy's weakest spot, raiders would be able to avoid guards or patrols, secrets of enemies would no longer be secrets. It could spell disaster for the Ten Towns if the powers of evil gain control of that stone."

"So stop yapping about it already," Bishop snorted, already starting down the hall, "Let's look for the damn thing, and find out if it was even here in the first place."


	16. A Handy Clue

**Chapter 16:** A Handy Clue

"Looks like someone picked this place clean," Bishop was running his eyes over a cluster of shelves and several large chests, the contents of the former strewn all over the floor, the latter having been busted into to. "Someone with no finesse on looting. Adopting the old grab and go it looks like." He reached his foot out and gave a light kick to Carrin's rear. "Sound familiar?"

"Please," she retorted, rubbing her round behind, "I'm _way_ better than these buffoons. I could swipe everything in a place like this and be gone again before anyone figured I was here."

"Skill difference aside," I told them both, "We are _not_ looters and we are certainly not here to rob these people. The gods know they've had enough misfortune this day, let alone the tragedy of thievery to add atop it."

"Stealing is a tragedy?" Carrin asked mirthfully.

"Sometimes it is my dear," Cassandra answered her with a gentle smile, "The theft of a single object can have terrible repercussions throughout many lives, causing panic and chaos."

"Though we seek the Heartstone Gem," Sol pondered, "And return it to Arundel if it is indeed here. What would you call that? Stealing or…borrowing indefinitely?"

"Neither. If things had been different, I would have asked before taking any action."

"Not much use in that anymore," Bishop noted.

Searching throughout the complex led to little use, every nook and cranny had been torn open, items of sparse value littering the floors. We came across what looked to be personal quarters, a library, and a hallway leading deeper into the temple, passing numerous bodies of robed men and the hulking remains of their verbeeg guard. The hallway, lined with more books ended with a dark stairwell, leading into the depths of the mountain.

Reaching the bottom of the steps yielded another passageway, winding around, entering a long hallway, lined with sarcophaguses. And at the end of this sprawling walkway, stood another five priests, bearing the same tattered appearance and wild expressions. As if this wasn't unsavory enough as it was, easily seven verbeeg guards were flanking them, weapons out and at the ready.

"We heard the commotion above, contemptible invaders!" screamed one priest, "The sounds of our brethren being slain reached us even here! You shall not walk away from this place with your lives for your crimes and…"

"We mean no harm!" I shouted out, holding my hands up, "We are not here to fight! We are here under peaceful intentions!"

"Lies murderers! You seek to destroy all that we have worked to build! You shall not escape from these halls until our brothers are…"

"Hold!" boomed a new voice, silencing the babbling of the delusional man. Out from behind the shielding girth of the grim-faced verbeeg stepped another man, hooded and robed, looking far less frayed than his cohorts. He ventured a few steps forward, eying us carefully. From under his hood, his face was hardened and firm as he gazed out at us.

"Brother Huvart," one of the more disheveled priests screeched, piercing us with a glare of pure wrath, "Why have us stop?! We must strike them now, whilst they are spewing their lies! They have desecrated our shrine and slain our own! Our brethren cry out to be avenged!"

"Look closer my son," the scrutinizing cleric answered him soothingly, "They carry no smell blood or death upon them and their colors are not the same as the heretics that did this to us. And those that defiled this place spoke no words to us, they only brought with them swift silent devastation. However…" now he faced us, "Outsiders," the stern man looked over all of us with deep examination, "You claim you are not apart of the dark force that has slain many of us, yet why are you here? This is a hidden shrine, far from any settlement and off the paths of all roads, so how did you find this place and why did you enter?"

"My good sir," I apologized, humbly bowing, "Let us explain. My name is Dominic Hugos, and these are my friends and associates. We are a band of traveling exorcists, dedicated to ridding the world from the scourge of undead, among other evils that plague good people."

"There are no undead in this place adventurer, though evil we have in abundance here."

"So we have seen. But we actually have come here on a mission. You see, we are from Kuldahar, one the Ten Towns, charged with searching for a missing artifact, one that…"

"The Heartstone Gem," Huvart surmised. "I see, so you too sought to rob us of our most sacred of artifacts," he accused, looking to grow irritated at the discovery of our intent.

"One moment," I hastily interrupted, "Allow me to explain our situation fully. My party and I have only recently arrived in Icewind Dale, searching for folks in need of our assistance. In our search we learned that the township of Kuldahar was besieged by unknown evil forces, so we set out and journeyed to it."

"With no small amount of hardships," Sol interjected.

"Indeed. We arrived to find a nameless faceless evil was causing the good people living there no end of strife, but the Arch-Druid of Kuldahar could not discern who or what was causing the conflict, as whatever is responsible has taken measures to protect itself from scrying. The Heartstone gem would be able to pierce this shroud and reveal the evil to us, allowing us to track it down and see it vanquished. Though despite our need, we had no intensions of coming here to merely steal from you. I was raised with better manners than that, and I was taught to ask before taking."

Huvart listened and was quiet; no doubt attempting to discern whether or not what I spoke was truth or fiction. At last, he stepped forward, bowing his head.

"I believe your words outsider. Your cause is a noble one, though your efforts shall be halted here. We have no stone to take any longer."  
"So you guy's _did_ have it?" Bishop concluded pointedly, "Tucked away somewhere back here?"  
"Yes, it was a sacred relic for our shrine. But the interlopers came, slaughtering all who stood in their way and took the gem from its resting place. We had never seen their like before and we do not associate with many outside our walls, so how they knew of the gem, I do not know."

"If I was to hazard a guess," Sol speculated, "Than I would say that you have met the very evil we are seeking to combat. In order to keep itself hidden from prying eyes, it needed to remove any possible means of others detecting it. That gem would have been a prime target."

"Yes, that seems likely; I have no doubt that you are correct. Those that came attacked us ruthlessly, pillaging our temple as they breached our defenses, searching feverishly. They took much from us but when they seized the gem, they left at once, as if they had found what they sought. They even knew about the inner cave where the Gem was housed…"

"May we see this place? Cassandra politely asked, bowing, "Perhaps we can better understand the events if we were to see it for ourselves." Brother Huvart scanned us all, biting his lip.

"Where the gem lay is a hallowed place where only our most loyal of brothers may tread…but…this day has taken much from us...And at the very least, you wish to assist if you can. Very well, follow. A warning however; we have suffered much this day and we will not be victims of more treachery. Our guards shall follow and punish any deceit with swift death."

"You needn't worry about us, my good sir," I assured him heartily, "We are only here to lend you our aid. Lead on."

And so we went, following the high priest further into his now shattered shrine and temple. As we went deeper, passing hallways and what looked to be tombs along the walls, we saw other survivors, priests, acolytes and monks, all forlorn and silent. They were moving bodies about, their fellow comrades as well as their fallen verbeeg guardians, respectfully laying them out in neat rows, saying hushed prayers. When we passed, their eyes came up, spearing us, their loathing and mistrust near palpable, no doubt if we had been unescorted, they would have attacked us in rage.

"Do not blame them," Huvart saw their glares as well, "even peaceful men can be driven to the edges of sanity and tolerance in such terrible moments, their anger is simply lashing out at which they don't recognize."

"I am deeply sorry for this distress," Cassandra apologized, "We know you have suffered much and our intrusion has only made matters worse for you all."

"No, stricken with grief as we are, we are the faithful disciples of our gods, following their ways of peace. Attacking strangers is contemptible and something that we should not do. Especially those that are willing to help, to right the wrongs in these mountains…I sense that you too serve the gods," Huvart noted of our priestess, "Of which god or goddess do you follow my lady?"

"I serve the Morning Lord," Cassandra answered, "His radiance is an example of light in a world full of shadows. I hope to spread his teachings to as many as I am able while I do good on our journeys."

"Indeed…perhaps you would say a prayer for this place before you depart. It would do much to ease our suffering to hear such words of kindness and vivacity."

"It would be my honor."

"And you too," he now turned towards Sir Victor who plodded alongside us, "You also have the mark of a holy soldier. What faith do you serve sir?"

"Don't waste your breath with him," Bishop informed the priest nonchalantly, "He doesn't talk. As quiet as a…"

_"Tyr…"_ spoke a foreign and authoritative voice, one that I can honestly claim I had never heard before. Though unknown as it was, the hollow resonance left no doubt as to _who_ had spoken. We all turned, looking at the towering iron behemoth that stood behind us.

"Did…did he just…_say_ something?" Sol asked, looking bewildered and flabbergasted.

"Well," said I, mustering as much good cheer as I could, "If that isn't the first good thing I've heard all day. Good to hear from you, old friend." There came no answer at this, only a shrug, which I was not surprised to see. The mood around us was that of pure astonishment, at least until we all felt a bit of an angry presence gather around us.

"That's bullspit," Bishop growled, sounding quite cross, "We're the people he's been traveling with for _years_ and he never makes a peep with us. Then this guy who he met _today_ asks him something and suddenly his vow of silence or whatever is over and gone out the window. What…?" he glared at our hulking paladin sourly, "We're not holy enough for you to even converse with? We're just gutterslime that's not even worth opening your mouth for?" The silence that followed was full of tension as no reply came.

"Vic?" Carrin asked timidly, perhaps troubled by the possible truth as to what Bishop had said. At least until Sir Victor laid a heavy hand on Carrin's shoulder, prompting her to stare upward into his hidden face.

_"I have my reasons,"_ came echoing out of his helmet visor, and he spoke no more. With the stunning revelation that our friend paladin could actually converse, we continued following Huvart into the inner sanctum of the shrine. This deified area was a vast cave, a platform of rock surrounded on all sides by a deep gorge, a dull glowing light coming from the chasms below. And like the rest of the temple, bodies lay strewn about, though here more than anywhere else, the number was far greater, clustered around an adorned plinth situated across the chamber.

"Gods," Carrin murmured, "The fiends…"

"Yes," Huvart agreed grimly, "The same thought entered our minds as well." He then pointed across the chamber, over the strewn mound of bodies, to a section of the cave wall that had been hollowed out, leaving a smooth stone pedestal. "That is where the gem resided until it was stolen from us. The beasts that did this came with terrible magic and numbers, and we were all but helpless. Though they did not leave this consecrated place without casualties," he then gestured to a few corpses, piled in an undignified heap off to one side of the slaughter. "Though the numbers we lost compared to theirs is far greater."

We tentatively entered, spreading out, looking over the scene closely, trying to ascertain all that we could. I joined Cassandra by the bloodstained bodies of the intruders.

"Talos," she noted, "These are the colors and garb for Talonian priests. Fanatics…" Nothing riled Cassandra up quite like priests of dark faiths; I saw a similar expression in her face when we had confronted Lysan of the Auril faith.

"Gracius," I heard Sol exclaim from across the room, "Just look at the _size_ of that indentation; this Heartstone gem must be enormous…like a small pumpkin!"

I meanwhile, focused my attention on the perpetrators, carefully turning their misshapen bodies over, to see if they possessed any other distinguishing marks that might yield a piece of the confounding puzzle we were faced with. When I flipped the third, a light crisp chime tingled my ears, something made of glass striking the stone floor. I reached around, trying not to winch as I rummaged in the pocket of the dead man, wondering all the while how Carrin managed to do the same thing so often with a straight face, when my fingers wrapped around cold glass and I drew my hand back.

"Well well," I mused aloud, "What do we have here?"

"What's that you got there Dom?" Carrin asked, at my side a moment later, looking over my shoulder, leaning in.

"A vial," I answered, staring at the crystalline container I held, peering beyond the glass of the small bottle, "full of some sort of…liquid…I'm not sure as to what though…" Everyone gathered around me, staring at my find. Sol took the vial, swishing the liquid within about, eyeing it carefully.

"Interesting…Not a potion, I'm fairly certain." With a gentle tug, the wedge of cork stopping up the narrow neck of the vial popped free, Sol taking a brief sniff. He wrinkled his nose quite quickly. "A bitter aroma…And yet familiar…I can't remember what though, but I'm sure I've smelt something similar to this before."

"A clue maybe?" Carrin pressed, "I mean, these guy's had it," lightly nudging the dead man with the tip of her boot, "So…maybe it means something?"

"I hope so," I told her, "As we have few leads to follow right now."

"If you have seen enough," Brother Huvart stood beside us, looking and sounding tired and depressed, "Then I must ask that you depart. We have much to do to rebuild this place and our dead need to be buried."

"Of course. Though we could assist you with that task, if you wish," I offered him, though he only shook his head.

"Thank you but no, we are their brothers and the task falls to us alone. I only ask that if you manage to track down those responsible for this, then please, for all those slain here, see to it that their deaths are fitting and send each and every one of their tainted and malicious souls to the Abyss to burn for their deeds."

"We are not hired assassins my good sir," Sol informed him, "But if the guilty party is indeed a despicable villain who caused such suffering needlessly, then rest assured that we shall see justice done and your people avenged."


End file.
